


La Lune

by LieutenantLiv



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - You've Got Mail Fusion, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Fluff and Angst, Gay Keith (Voltron), Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Keith and Shiro are Adoptive Siblings, M/M, Minor Allura/Shiro (Voltron), New York City, Slow Burn, there is a sex scene in here but it's in no way explicit, very much YA level stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2018-12-31 05:48:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 49,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12125883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LieutenantLiv/pseuds/LieutenantLiv
Summary: Lance doesn't think he'll ever see Keith Kogane again after graduating. Except, one day, the guy walks into Holt's Bookstore. The rest, as they say, is history.A You've Got Mail, bookshop au, with plenty of fluff.





	1. Chapter 1

It’s a cold day in November- a really damn cold day in November- when Lance first sees Keith Kogane enter the bookshop.

It had been a fairly normal morning until then. The place is quiet, the Christmas rush hasn’t reached Holt’s bookstore. Matt was hoping that it would pick up soon, which is why he’s had the three of them come in on weekends as well as weekdays, all hands on deck. Lance doesn’t mind keeping busy- he prefers it to not doing anything, he’s terrible at sitting still- but he definitely wouldn’t mind a little time off to hang out with Hunk and Pidge outside of the bookshop. Then again, he’s known the family forever, and so has Hunk, so they’re not going to say no when Matt asks them for help. Especially since a giant Barnes & Noble has opened up one block down- the Holt family need all the help they can get to put their shop on the map.

Hunk suggested setting up a little café, just to keep the place afloat with the rising competition in the area. Matt had reluctantly agreed. What he hadn’t expected was Hunk to actually bake all the cookies and cakes himself- which, of course, were all amazing. And man, did that guy know how to make a coffee. Where he’d learnt to use a coffee machine properly, Lance had no idea. Neither did Pidge.

Pidge was the one who crunched the numbers. When they weren’t minding the shop with Lance and Hunk, they were hunched over their laptop, trying to figure out where they could cut their losses or squeeze out a little bit more cash. Lance didn’t bother trying to understand. Maths was so not his forte. And whenever Hunk tried to help, he’d come away with a second-degree burn on his hand from Pidge slapping it away from the keyboard. So none of them really knew how the shop was actually doing. 

With any luck, the Christmas rush would find Holt’s soon, anyway. Hopefully. 

He likes working at the shop. He doesn’t love it… it isn’t exactly what he wants to spend his life doing. As much as he enjoys working with his friends, he isn’t really the bookish type. He is good at getting people to like him, which was why he’s good at bringing in customers. He’s the guy who writes cheesy lines on the blackboard outside the shop, like ‘”This is literally the coolest bookshop I’ve ever been to!”- William Shakespeare’, and ‘Servin’ coffee as hot as your crush ;)’. But, in all honesty, he doesn’t really want to apply his flirtatious wiles to Holt’s bookshop forever. He doesn’t want to be sitting behind the counter, drinking yet another cup of coffee (actually, it’s hot chocolate, but he pretends it's coffee for outward appearances) and falling asleep with boredom. 

Lance wants to be out there. 

He wants to travel. He wants to meet new people and see new places. He made a blog a year or so ago, a mixture of YouTube videos and written pieces, in the hope that maybe he could be a travel journalist some day. Go where no one else would go. Because what was cooler than that? His blog has a few followers, the occasional dedicated fan (which he’d always boast about and call his ‘groupies’) who’d leave a comment on every piece. But, as time wears on, it’s seeming more and more like that dream of being the daring, handsome journalist who ventured across the world isn’t going to happen any time soon.

Not that he’s ever going to give up trying. 

In the meantime, he’s content making some money, saving up to blow it all on some crazy trip across the globe. He promised to bring Hunk with him so that he could try all the food. Hunk promised in return to be his wing-man. That life seems distant now, only fantasy, as Lance slouches in the chair behind the till, the shop completely empty save a tourist who’d holed themselves up in the crime novel section. 

He knows he likes working here, technically. It’s just also really damn boring. 

So when he hears the bell chime above the shop door, he’s jumping out of his seat, shoving his phone in mind pocket and pretending that he’d been paying attention, and totally not slacking whilst at work. When Keith Kogane walks through the door, it takes him a second or two to recognise him. 

He narrows his eyes. Is that…? 

The mullet. That dreaded mullet. He’d recognise it anywhere.

Lance watches the man, who hasn’t noticed him yet, wander into the shop. He’s wrapped up in a scarf, but his ears and cheeks are red from the cold to his face. Dumbass doesn’t know how to wear a hat in New York winter. He’s frowning, looks deep in thought, simultaneously like he’s got a stick up his ass, not really paying attention to the shelves he’s drifting past, picking up one book and putting it back without really reading the blurb.

The initial surprise subsides and is taken over by irritation. 

This asshole. This was the guy who was best in class at college- best at most things- and then disappeared, stopped coming to lectures. Lance, well, he was never the cleverest guy. But he always put his all into his work. And he told himself every time that the effort would pay off, and it never did. He was never as naturally clever as Keith, the quiet emo boy who slouched at the back of class and had all the girls fawning over him.

Guy didn’t even try, and he was number one. Those kinds of guys just boil Lance’s blood. 

And then, Keith had gotten kicked out. For ‘discipline issues’, whatever that meant. 

He’s staring at him, he knows. His mouth is probably hanging open comically, but he doesn’t make to move or change his expression as he gawps at Keith absent-mindedly making his round through the tiny shop.

Lance wishes Hunk or Pidge were here, then he’d be conspicuously grabbing their attention. Instead, they’re upstairs on break, and he’s alone in the shop. 

Keith has been staring for a long time at Zadie Smith’s Swing Time, again, not really seeming to read the back or anything, before turning round to face Lance’s direction.

He doesn’t know why he does it, but he dives beneath the counter. For some reason he doesn’t want Keith knowing he’s here, working in a bookshop, instead of being a super cool journalist stud. He’d compared himself to the guy for the whole of college, and now, seeing him after they’d graduated at the age of 22 felt weird and embarrassing. 

Crouched on the floor, heat rising to his cheeks, he pulled his phone from his pocket and whatsapped his group chat with Hunk and Pidge.

 **Dat Lance Boi** dudes you’ll never guess who’s in the shop right now  
**Hunkadnunk** who who  
**Dat Lance Boi** uhhhhhh Ketih Kogane that’s who  
**Hunkadnunk** woah that’s trippy. Haven’t seen him outside of class like ever. Kinda forgot he existed.  
**Hunkadnunk** which sounds really mean when I think about it  
**Dat Lance Boi** is pidge with you  
**Hunkadnunk** yeh, they say ‘woah, crazy’ in like, a super not impressed voice  
**Dat Lance Boi** comeon pidge, it’s a little weird  
**Pidgeotto** Not really, he used to live in the neighbourhood  
**Dat Lance Boi** he did?? Why didn’t you tell me???  
**Pidgeotto** … why would i  
**Hunkadnunk** lance thinks keith’s his arch nemesis  
**Pidgeotto** I know but  
**Pidgeotto** wtf  
**Pidgeotto** ok  
**Pidgeotto** you haven’t seen him since college I don’t get the issue ehre  
**Pidgeotto** *here  
**Dat Lance Boi** this is YOUR neighbourhood. You’ve lived in the same neighbourhood as him this whole time and you didn’t tell me  
**Dat Lance Boi** betrayed 2bh  
**Pidgeotto** sorry didn’t realise it was a thing…?? I mean Matt is super good friends with his brother Shiro. Never met him till college tho. Didn’t feel like  
**Dat Lance Boi** !!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
**Dat Lance Boi** WHY DOES NOBODY TELL ME ANYTHING  
**Hunkadnunk** oop  
**Pidgeotto** I haven’t been hiding anything from you tho, for reals, don’t do a big lance freak out thing ok  
**Pidgeotto** i have literally never spoken to the man  
**Dat Lance Boi** pidge you tiny deceptive child genius  
**Dat Lance Boi** using your genius child powers for evil and hidING KEITH’S IDENTITY FROM ME  
**Pidgeotto** B)  
**Hunkadnunk** lance don’t freak out too much about it bro  
**Hunkadnunk** you compared yourself way too much with him at school  
**Hunkadnunk** he’s just a dude like everyone else  
**Pidgeotto** yes no freaking out please  
**Pidgeotto** has he not noticed you yet??  
**Dat Lance Boi** …  
**Dat Lance Boi** I might be hiding behind the counter  
**Pidgeotto** …  
**Pidgeotto** good god lance you useless twink  
**Dat Lance Boi** weeehhhhhhhhhhhhh  
**Hunkadnunk** its ok hombre  
**Pidgeotto** youre an independent woman who doesn’t need to hide behind counters  
**Hunkadnunk** exactly  
**Hunkadnunk** get out there you beautiful, Latino god  
**Dat Lance Boi** weeeEEEHHHhhhhhhhHHHH ok fine

Lance is about to put his phone away when he hears someone clear his throat above him. He turns his head upwards to see Keith peering down at him with a raised eyebrow.

“What are you doing down there?”

Lance falters. Has the dude even ever spoken to him till now? Lance doesn’t think so. And yet now, he’s staring down at him in confusion and disdain and the heat rises to his cheeks again. 

“Uhhh…. Looking through this… very important folder? Actually?” he manages fumbling at a filofax on the shelf behind his back. 

Neither of them says anything for a moment.

“Ok…” Keith says. “Well, can I buy this book?”

“What?” Lance demands, before he realises he is, in fact, a bookseller. “Oh. Right, yeah, sure.”

He stands up, feeling more flustered at being caught hiding and wishing he could be a little more casual as he aggressively scans the book. 

“Want a bag?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

Lance shoves the book in the bag, and Keith looks even more alarmed and confused by Lance’s behaviour.

“So. What you been up to lately?” Lance asks. Keith looks at him blankly. “You know… since college?” _Dumbass._

Keith blinks at him. 

“I’m sorry… do we know each other?”

Lance’s jaw hits the floor.

“Uh, Lance? Lance McClain?” he says, hand to his chest. “You know, we were in, like, all the same classes as each other at school? Come on- Lance and Keith, neck and neck?”

Realization dawns on him as he takes his wallet out of his satchel. “Right. Lance.” He pushes a twenty over the counter before answering his question. Lance had almost forgotten he’d asked. “I’m a journalist for Altea Post.”

Heat scorches his stomach and his throat constricts. His anger and jealousy is clearly obvious, because Keith practically double takes as he puts his wallet away. 

“Huh. Cool. I guess.”

He doesn’t make eye contact with him as he tries to count the right amount of change. God he really really sucks at math. 

“And you work here,” Keith supplements awkwardly. Keith and his stupid turtle neck and weird mullet, hipster pony tail thing.

Lance tries not to feel like the guy’s judging him, tries to control the defiant pout that creeps up. He’s never been good at holding back his feelings though. “Yeah, me Hunk and Pidge,” he mutters.

“Right. I’ve been meaning to come in and say hi to her and Matt. Never got round to it…”

“Them,” Lance corrects. “Pidge is a them, now.”

Keith puts his book in his bag and nods slowly, wincing at Lance’s scowl. “Ok,” he says, picking up on the not so subtle waves of pure hatred coming from Lance. Keith turns to leave, but stops, looking Lance up and down. “You know, Pidge, I get. But I never took you to be a book type.”

“Ha! So you do remember me!” Lance pointed an accusing finger at Keith, before measuring his words. “Wait- what is that supposed to mean?”

Keith turns on his heels, raising a casual hand in goodbye. The bell dings, and he’s alone in the shop again. 

It takes a moment for the world to stop floating. He always got light headed around Keith- so fucking angry and jealous and competitive. It made him dizzy. Making a frustrated growl, he took out his phone. 

**Dat Lance Boi** HE’S A FUCKING JOURNALIST FOR ALTEA POST NOW??  
**Hunkadnunk** woah really  
**Hunkadnunk** yo  
**Hunkadnunk** that’s impressive  
**Dat Lance Boi** HE DIDN’T EVEN GRADUATE COLLEGE AND HE’S A JOURNALIST FOR ALTEA POST???  
**Hunkadnunk** now you mention it, I think I’ve come across some of his stuff on my facebook feed  
**Hunkadnunk** he did a review for that Korean place on Harrison street the other day. Shit made me wanna go  
**Pidgeotto** ah man that’s really cool. Good for him  
**Dat Lance Boi** NO  
**Dat Lance Boi** NOT GOOD FOR HIM  
**Dat Lance Boi** IT’S LIKE HE EXISTS PURELY TO TAUNT ME  
**Dat Lance Boi** DANGLE EVERYTHING I CANT DO RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY FACE  
**Hunkadnunk** bro pls  
**Hunkadnunk** it ok  
**Hunkadnunk** you’ll be a cool fancy shmancy travel writer some day  
**Hunkadnunk** you’re two completely different people youll get there eventually  
**Pidgeotto** plus you have a degree and he doesn’t  
**Hunkadnunk** ^^^ tru tru

He doesn’t want to admit to Pidge or Hunk that he wants to do better than this. Wants to do more than working in his friend’s bookstore. Only there because he knows them, not because he’s actually, you know, talented. He breaths out loudly and angrily through his nostrils, fingers flying across his phone screen. 

**Dat Lance Boi** thanks guys  
**Pidgeotto** you don’t want to be an emo anyway  
**Hunkadnunk** lol  
**Hunkadnunk** lance and emo just don’t go together  
**Hunkadnunk** im trying so hard to imagine it right now and I just cant  
**Pidgeotto** so stop being a piss baby

Lance whines to himself.

 **Dat Lance Boi** y u so mean  
**Hunkadnunk** tough love buddy, tough love  


Lance stores his phone back in his pocket and struggles with his feelings of inadequacy and contempt towards a man who barely remembered him from university. He sighs and lets his eyes travel to the window display. They’d spent the whole day before covering it in fake snow, littering it with their best stock. Lance was in charge of the kids section, mostly (“because you’re such a child” Pidge had once explained, to which Lance had whinged that he could actually read things above the 5-7 age range) and he’d chosen some rad sticker books to put in the window. Because who the hell didn’t love stickers? 

Beyond the book display, the light is starting to fade. It was 3pm, and it was already beginning to get dark. 

Sometimes he wonders what it would have been like to grow up in Cuba, where his family are from, where it’s sunny and there are beaches and hot babes. Instead, he’s been brought up in the Bronx, and the sun setting at 3pm is depressingly familiar. 

What if. Those thoughts always flood his head. 

He loves New York, enjoys working with his friends. He fucking loves this time of year, if he’s honest with himself- Christmas in the city, all the lights and food stalls and nostalgic music. But sometimes he has to wonder what it would be like if he could just get up and leave. Follow that journalist dream, travel the world. He knows he’d miss home. But if he actually achieved something? What it would be like if he could hold down a girlfriend or boyfriend for more than two weeks before overwhelming them with how clingy he was. What it would be like if he actually felt useful. Good at something. 

Pidge is the clever one. Hunk is the big friendly giant who bakes. And what is he? Apart from being generally ridiculous? 

He slumps back into the chair behind the till, head lolling back. Whilst he’s stuck in a rut, Keith is living the dream- his dream. 

Screw him. 

The shift wears on slowly. Pidge takes over his shift, and he goes upstairs to join Hunk to play Uno for a while. After work, they lock up the shop, wrap themselves up against the cold, and walk back to their shared flat together. Hunk cooks fajitas. Lance entertains them by putting on Singstar and screeching like a cat to The Circle of Life. The old guy downstairs knocks on his ceiling and yells at them to shut the fuck up. They go their separate ways to their rooms.

Lance collapses on his bed. His room is fucking freezing. God, he wishes they could afford to actually have heating. Come December, they won’t have much choice if they aren’t going to get hypothermia. Wearing his pyjamas underneath, he pulls himself into his blue robot onesie and launches himself under the covers. He drags his laptop onto his lap and considers his next blog post for his Wordpress site. Nothing’s coming to him, so he goes onto Tumblr instead.

He has a friend on there that he talks to occasionally. At first, he only followed him because he shared great pictures of travel photography. Then, a while ago, he’d seen that they’d been feeling down. They’d made one of those sulky ‘read more’ posts, and he’d read it out of curiosity. It was something about not being able to dedicate themselves to anything for more than a month, about disappointing his family. Sounded pretty heavy, and Lance actually kind of knew how the person felt. Not that his family or friends have ever said anything of the like to him. But he feels like a disappointment sometimes. 

So he’d messaged them, saying he knew how they felt blablabla and let me know if you want to chat. Turned out they didn’t want to talk about it, but they appreciated the message. Somehow, they’d started talking on practically a daily basis. Lance didn’t know anything about them- just that they were a guy, and lived in NYC. Didn’t have many friends, though he couldn’t see why. Guy was hilarious, always made him laugh with his sarcastic sense of humour. 

It’s become a habit to login and say hi. Lance likes that they don’t know anything about each other. They can just enthuse or complain about life without it getting in anyway personal. Even if sometimes he is curious about what this guy is like- what his name is, even. 

**hastalalater** yo wassup

It only takes a minute for the reply to come. 

**everythingisconnected** hey  
**everythingisconnected** hows your day been  
**hastalalater** very boring.  
**hastalalater** did I ever tell you I work in a shop? Working in a shop is boring af  
**everythingisconnected** yeh I can imagine  
**hastalalater** wbu  
**everythingisconnected** not much. Had a day off so I explored the city a bit  
**hastalalater** noice  
**hastalalater** I really would like a day off soon  
**hastalalater** ive been working for like, two weeks straight  
**everythingisconnected** ???? cant you ask your boss for some time off  
**hastalalater** I mean. I could. But I wont. Its Christmas time you know? Busiest time of the year and all. Plus I really like my boss  
**hastalalater** although im gonna make sure I get a weekday off at somepoint so I can visit dem wicked Christmas markets yo  
**hastalalater** you know, when its not so busy  
**everythingisconnected** good shout  
**everythingisconnected** I love the markets. Too many people though  
**everythingisconnected** not great with crowds  
**hastalalater** wow you must love NYC then lol  
**everythingisconnected** not massively to be honest  
**everythingisconnected** i way prefer the countryside. Really wanna move upstate one day  
**hastalalater** ive never really been. Barely been outside of the state  
**everythingisconnected** aw man. You gotta go visit Washington. So beautiful and quiet  
**hastalalater** doesn’t it rain there like all the time ahhah  
**everythingisconnected** … yeah it does actually  
**hastalalater** paha  
**hastalalater** that’s ok I love the rain  
**everythingisconnected** me too

Its totally weird to Lance that they know absolutely nothing about each other, and yet this stranger knows these little things about him. It’s nice. Kind of intimate. He’s not really this open with anyone, apart from Hunk. 

**hastalalater** anyway, Im probs gonna go now. Gots ta get up early tomorrow  
**everythingisconnected** ugh me too actually  
**everythingisconnected** why did you have to remind me  
**hastalalater** paha sorry dude  
**hastalalater** I know you cant tear yourself away from my delightful conversation  
**hastalalater** but sleep is a thing that must be had :P  
**everythingisconnected** are you flirting with me? I can’t tell sometimes :P  
**hastalalater** * gasp * excuse you, if I was flirting with you, you’d know  
**hastalalater** good night, sugar ;)

Lance is folding his laptop away when he hears Pidge shout through the wall. 

“LANCE,” they scream. 

“WHAT?” 

“I HAVE TO GO TO SOME LAME PUBLISHING CONNECTION DIG TOMORROW, COME WITH?”

Lance considers this. “WHY WOULD I WANNA GO WITH YOU?”

“THE CEO OF ALTEA POST IS GOING…” they sing. 

Oh shit, Allura Smythe. She’s amazing. Not to mention, absolutely damn beautiful. If Lance goes tomorrow, he can’t guarantee he won’t low key embarrass himself in front of one of his idols. Not that that’s going to stop him.

“YEAH, I’LL COME WITH YOU,” he shouts as casually as he can.

There’s a bang from downstairs. ‘Shut up, you damn kids!”

“THANKS LAANNNCE,” Pidge replies.

000

That’s how Lance meets Keith Kogane again. In much worse circumstances than the comfort of his own shop.

They’re in someone’s flat, but he doesn’t know whose. It’s one of those fancy converted warehouse apartments with the metal beams and red brick, except its been done up with minimalist art and there’s dumb jazz music playing in the background. As if this party could get any more stick-up-the-ass-ish.

He’s prepared himself for seeing Allura there. In fact, he tries his best to casual and intelligent, like everyone else there. Sure, he’s not wearing glasses and he definitely got this shirt from a thrift shop, but he can keep it together for at least one evening and give off a suave, educated vibe, right?

Right?

Pidge is practically hiding behind their wine glass. They don’t like public events too much, and Lance has a feeling that that’s most of the reason why they dragged him along to this social event. Not that he’s complaining, because Matt introduces him to his friend, Shiro. This is the guy who’s related to Keith, he recalls, and he sends Pidge a furtive, questioning glance, who responds with an eye roll and nod. Shiro is nothing like his awful, genius younger brother. He’s calm and assured and funny, and he gives off this dad vibe that makes Lance feel a little better about himself. They get on well, to the point where Lance starts to feel his goofball nature come out a little bit in the formal environment, and surprisingly, Shiro finds him funny. He’s 28 and works at Altea, too, which Lance guesses is how Keith got his gig. 

When Shiro asks what Lance whether he’s interested in journalism, he isn’t very restrained in his response. He starts gushing about travelling the world, about how’s he’s saving up to explore and write and vlog, tells him about his wordpress, and Shiro is laughing at his enthusiasm- but not in a cruel way.

“You seem like a natural.” Shiro says it as he swirls his tumbler of whiskey in his hand. “You have the passion, which is the most important thing.”

“Really?” he says a little to keenly. He brushes it off, in an attempt to be cool. “I mean, yeah.”

Shiro chuckles. “Don’t hold back, Lance. That quality is what’s going to take you far. In fact…” he tails off, and waves over Allura from the other side of the room. Lance’s posture straightens and he can feel himself blushing. He’s fucking useless. 

“Allura, this is Lance. Lance, Allura.” Before he can properly gather himself, Allura and her personal assistant- some weirdo with a ginger moustache who introduces himself as Allura’s uncle, Coran- are shaking his hand.

“Pleasure to meet you, Lance,” she says, in an accent that’s probably British but he can’t tell. “How do you know Shiro?”

“Uh,” Lance manages. Geez, Allura is beautiful. She smiles at his hesitation. Shame flushes his face. 

“We just met, actually,” Shiro saves him. “He works for my friend Matt, at Holt’s bookshop over in Hoboken.”

“Oh, I love that little bookshop!” Coran exclaims. “So quaint. There aren’t enough shops like that anymore in New York. They’ve all been eaten up by the empire of Barnes & Noble!”

“Yeah,” Lance agrees, a little surprised by the man’s overwhelming enthusiasm- an unusual feeling, considering he’s the one usually doing the overwhelming. 

“Lance here wants to go into travel writing.” Lance looks up at Shiro and wonders whether he hooks up all of his friends of friends of friends like this. What a decent guy. 

“Oh right,” Allura smiles kindly. Lance looks between the three of them, suddenly feeling a lot less of an adult than he technically, actually, is. The conversation had turned into a business meeting and he’s not very good in formal situations. But he’s good at feigning confidence, so he plasters on his best friendly smile. It seems to work because everyone is actually talking to him like he’s an adult.

Which, he has to remind himself, he is. Even if Pidge and Hunk call him the resident child. And most of the time, he kind of feels like it.

“That’s a particularly tough industry to get into,” Allura says, interrupting Lance’s thoughts. “But with passion and perseverance, you can do it.”

“You should send me the link to your blog,” Shiro says. “I’d like to read your stuff.”

“Oh, well, I mean,” Lance waves a hand at him, trying to emit as much casual disinterest as possible. 

“No really, you should. If your posts are filled with as much enthusiasm as your conversation, I’d love to take a look.”

“Oooh, I love finding new writers,” Allura claps her hands together gleefully. 

“Maybe I could write for Altea someday,” Lance smirks, points a fingergun at Allura. The most beautiful person in the world, and CEO of the newspaper he wants to work for most.

Be cool. Be cool.

Allura raises her eyebrows and laughs. Coran seems to nod his head in mild appreciation. Lance’s stomach plummets and that heat is coming back to his face.

“Oh, you are so cute!”

Not what he was going for. 

“I’ve never met anyone actually try to get a job by flirting before. But I must say, Lance, I admire the confidence,” Coran says, twizzling his moustache.

Shiro pats Lance on the shoulder, who is ready for the ground to devour him just about now, even if he tries not to let it show.

“Yeah, he’s got what’s necessary to be a journalist, for sure,” Shiro chuckles. Lance beams up at him. 

“Shiro, stop stealing my plus one.” Pidge sidles over. Apparently they know Allura and Coran already. What the fuck is up with that? Does Pidge know everyone? They end up talking about lots of random things, and Lance manages to get Allura to laugh a couple more times, if not at him. He thinks he’s actually charming her a little bit. Eventually Allura gives him her card, and he holds it like its gold dust. He’s pretty sure he’s glowing, and the amusement is clear in her voice when she says she promises to visit the shop. 

Pidge ends up dragging him away to the drinks table, telling him that if he stays chatting any longer, he’ll ruin the good impression that he’s miraculously made. 

“I don’t know how you got her contact details. You can barely string a sentence together, especially around someone as beautiful as Allura Smythe.”

“Hey! I charmed her socks off,” he grins, winking at Pidge, who visibly shudders. 

“Don’t come anywhere near me with your charms.”

“But Pidge, I’m so suave and charming,” he leers at Pidge, who flaps their hands around at his face.

That is until a voice comes from behind them. “Unlikely.”

Lance shudders this time, spinning round to find Keith fucking Kogane. He’s wearing a t-shirt. A tight black t-shirt, in winter. What the fuck.

“What are you doing here?” he exclaims. Pidge groans and face-palms.

“I’m here with my brother,” he explains. “And, you know, the other members of Altea Post. Since I write for them.”

“Oh,” Lance says, filling the sound with as much disdain as possible, even if he does feel a bit stupid for not having expected him there. He turns back around and starts pouring himself a very large mug of mulled wine. When he turns to talk to Pidge and pointedly ignore Keith, he finds they’re not there. They’ve fucked off to go talk to Matt and Shiro. 

“What are you doing here?” Keith asks, pouring himself some wine. 

Lance scoffs, one hand on his hip, the other pouring wine down his gullet so he can have some time to come up with a witty response. His stomach is churning with unadulterated hatred. 

Although, Lance has never hated anyone before, ever, and he doesn’t really hate Keith so much as want to be him. But still. 

He looks over his mug with his best look of confidence- it’s a look he’s practiced his whole life. Keith, meanwhile, is watching him with that mixture of confusion and disdain, if not perhaps a little bit of interest. He’s got his hair down this time, no stupid pony tail. And that t-shirt is very clingy.

Why does he feel the need to dress like he’s from Baywatch when its winter? 

“Well,” Lance begins, “I was invited here by Matt, and I had the pleasure of meeting your lovely brother. Who is actually nice, by the way.” Unlike you.

Keith looks over at Shiro, before looking into his wine glass. “He’s a good guy.”

Lance doesn’t know how to respond to that, since it isn’t bitter or argumentative, which he’d been preparing himself for. “And then I hit it off with your boss.”

Keith snorted. “Sure.”

“What? Is it so hard to believe that I would make a better impression on Allura than you?”

Keith cocks his head and raises an eyebrow. “Are you kidding? I work for her. You don’t.”

“So?” Lance says, putting down his mug and crossing his arms defensively. “I can make people smile, unlike you.”

“I can make Allura smile,” Keith replies a little defensively and a little too quickly, which is just what Lance was looking for. 

“Oh, right. I’m sure you have a great sense of humour.”

“Is that your thing?” Keith smirks. “Being funny and getting people to laugh at you?”

Lance reigns in the hurt that that actually causes. Because Keith of all people doesn’t get to make him feel like shit. “Oh, and your thing is being an asshole?”

“Good one.”

“Yeah, well. So’s your face?”

They both look at each other before Lance breaks into a laugh. Keith smiles in surprise. 

“See, I can even get you to smile.”

Keith blinks at him, brows knitting together, even if his smile doesn’t fade. It’s a soft expression that he’s not seen on him before. Because whenever Lance has seen him, he’s either being an emo edge lord, sitting at the back of a classroom, or he looks constipated as he’s walking around his bookshop. But now, his expression is thoughtful, smiling. “Congratulations.”

Lance thinks he prefers it when they’re arguing.

“What were you doing talking to Allura anyway?”

Lance recovers and eyes the food, walking along the buffet with Keith following him. He finds a cocktail stick and stabs a cocktail sausage aggressively, before popping it into his mouth. “For your information,” he says with his mouth full, Keith grimacing. Like he’s that precious. “I’m actually a freelance journalist too.”

Keith raises his eyebrows, and now he’s crossing his arms. He watches him like he’s waiting to be convinced, and it riles Lance up so much its unreal, there’s practically steam coming out of his ears. 

“Oh really? Who do you write for?”

“I have a blog. Founder, editor, and writer,” he says proudly, sticking a thumb to his chest before attacking another cocktail sausage. Keith is ignoring the food, apparently, to give his attention to pissing Lance off. 

“Oh?” he repeats, mock impressed. “Wow. Your very own blog. You must be a big deal.”

“What, and you don’t have one?”

“Of course I do-”

“Exactly. All gotta start out somewhere, right? Besides, I did just chat up your boss,” he reaffirms, taking her business card from his pocket and waving it between his index and middle finger. 

This time Keith does actually seem impressed. “Wow. Well, let me know when you actually become a journalist?”

Lance scrunches his face up in annoyance, before quickly laughing it off. “Yeah, yeah, maybe, if I have enough time. I’ll send you a post card when I’m travel writing in Rome, eating pizza and being generally better than you.”

Keith blinks at him. He does that a lot. “You want to do travel journalism?”

“Yeah? So what?”

Keith shakes his head and picks his drink back up again. “Good luck with that.”

This time, Lance really is pissed. “What? You think I can’t do it?”

“I’ve been trying to get into travel journalism for ages. It’s basically impossible. There’s hardly any money in the industry. Nobody pays to read that kind of stuff anymore, so there’s no funding to send anyone abroad. You’ve practically gotta do it off your own back, unless you’re a really big name.”

“And who says I can’t be a big name someday?” Lance counters. He spreads his hands in front of him, reading from an imaginary billboard. “Lance McClain, travel writer for Altea Press.”

Keith looks at him with what looks like pity, and it takes everything in his limited self-restraint to not scream in the dude’s face. 

“I’ll be up there someday. You’ll see.”

He’s convincing himself more than anyone, but by the way Keith’s face changes, he thinks he might have actually convinced him too. Something softens in his expression again, like before. And then, before Lance can question it, he’s back to being defensive. 

“Sorry I said anything.” He practically slams his drink down on the table, turns to tell Shiro something, and leaves. Shiro and the group he was talking to look at his receding figure with a quiet sense of bafflement. Shiro shakes his head minutely. 

Lance, meanwhile, is fuming. Arms crossed over his chest, foot tapping. He can’t believe that guy- that guy who didn’t even remember who he was when he saw him the day before- has the balls to tell him he can’t be a journalist? Just because he is? Just because he’s a hot-shot writer for Altea?

Just as Pidge comes over to ask Lance what he’d done to piss Keith off, Lance grabs Pidge by the sleeve and announces that they’re leaving. The two of them wave stiffly to Matt, Shiro, and an oblivious looking Allura before Lance storms out with Pidge in tow. 

“What the hell, Lance?” they demand, tearing themselves away from Lance’s grip. “Not that I’m not grateful for getting out, but what the hell did you say?”

“Nothing, he’s the asshole,” Lance said, waving down a cab. “Acting like he’s Mr Hight and Mighty because he’s writing for Altea and I’m not.”

“But you got Allura’s card today. I thought you’d be happy?” they ask, sincerely.

Lance sighs, clambering into the back of the cab. “I was. It was great, up until Keith McMullet Head showed up and told me I couldn’t be a travel journalist.”

Pidge sighed. 

“You two seem to really rile each other up.”

“Did you know he didn’t even recognise me yesterday? When I served him the shop? I had to remind him.”

“Lance, you’d literally never even spoken to the dude before. How was he meant to know who you are?”

“Well I knew who he was.”

“Only because you were like, obsessed with him.”

“Was not!”

“Was too.”

“Was NOT.”

“Anyway,” Pidge hinted, looking out the window and watching the sleet begin to fall. Lance sulks and stares out of his side, breath steaming up the glass. “You should stop getting up in each others’ faces if you’re going to be a writer for Altea.”

“I don’t write for Altea.”

“Not yet.”

He looks at Pidge, who’s being unusually complimentary. He smiles at them, punches them on the arm. “Shucks. Thanks Pidge. Needed to hear that.”

When they get home, Lance turns the whinging back on, turns up to full volume, and practically hangs off of Hunk’s arm, looking for sympathy. Hunk is compliant, and makes him a hot chocolate.

Lance goes to bed that evening feeling surprisingly good, and his stomach is churning with an anticipation that he can’t put his finger on.


	2. Chapter 2

Lance is in a fucking brilliant mood when he wakes up the next morning and remembers that he got Allura Smythe’s contact details. 

The first thing he does is go to the kitchen and boil some milk for a chai latte. Because, seriously, fuck coffee. Stuff tastes like ass. He’s in the midst of watching the milk bubble to a boil, still wearing his robot onesie and bed hair stood on end, when he feels a drop of cold water plop on his head. He grimaces up to stare at the offending patch of damp on the ceiling. Their apartment building was falling apart- pipes leaking, thinning floors, constant power cuts. But that was the life of a bookseller in New York. No comfy apartment like they get in sitcoms or romantic comedies. Nope- only the shittiest, coldest living environment for them. 

Lance whines and shuffles around the kitchen, making himself breakfast and pouring his drink. Pidge’s discarded coffee mug is sitting by the sink. They’ve gone in early. Lance gazes up at the clock above the stove and frowns at it, as if to convey his distaste to time itself for the early hour. 

Crumpling at the dining table, he takes out his phone and checks to see if his Tumblr pal has responded to his message last night. They have.

**hastalalater** yo yo yo how was your day today? Get up to anything fun  
…  
**everythingisconnected** my day was pretty boring as usual  
**everythingisconnected** actually, it wasn’t boring. More fucking annoying.  
**everythingisconnected** do you ever have one of those days where everything seems to go wrong?  
**hastalalater** oh yeah for sure  
**hastalalater** one thing goes wrong and then everything else just falls to pieces  
**everythingisconnected** exactly  
**everythingisconnected** anyway. Doesn’t matter, it’s a new day and all that? I guess? Whatever  
**hastalalater** not much of an optimist are you haha  
**everythingisconnected** nope haha  
**everythingisconnected** how was your day yesterday  
**hastalalater** … you know, I’m not really sure?  
**everythingisconnected** what do you mean  
**hastalalater** well like. It started out kind of normal and boring yadayada  
**hastalalater** and then it got kind of amazing. Like, I went out with a friend last night and met some cool people  
**hastalalater** but then I met someone who I haven’t seen in AGES who I never liked very much  
**hastalalater** and they really put a sour note on my day  
**everythingisconnected** oh no. im sorry. I know the feeling  
**everythingisconnected** wanna talk about it?  
**hastalalater** nah

Lance stares at his cooling latte and thinks back to the night before. It really was been an amazing day- meeting Allura and Coran, Shiro, having some form of encouragement that he could be a journalist- and then Kieth. God, that guy just-

**hastalalater** you know what yeh  
**hastalalater** I do wanna talk about it  
**everythingisconnected** haha ok then  
**hastalalater** this dude just always manages to make me feel like shit? And the worst part is that I don’t even think he means to, and I know I shouldn’t really let him get to me  
**hastalalater** because most of the time its just he’s naturally a pompous douche bag  
**hastalalater** but last night was the worst. Because he actually genuinely hurt my feelings, like, a lot. He knew how to make me feel completely inadequate and awful and I hate how he’s always made me feel like that  
**everythingisconnected** geez  
**everythingisconnected** this guy sounds like an asshole  
**hastalalater** you know what? He totally is  
**hastalalater** …except I don’t know if he actually is. You know? Apart from last night  
**hastalalater** I dunno. Sometimes I feel like im making it all up.  
**everythingisconnected** probably not  
**everythingisconnected** even if he isn’t doing it intentionally its something he should stop doing  
**everythingisconnected** my brother’s always said that it’s people’s intentions that count but ive never entirely agreed. an asshole is still an asshole  
**hastalalater** paha! Wise words  
**hastalalater** it’s not like I see him all the time anyway so whatever. Fuck that guy  
**everythingisconnected** that’s the attitude  
**everythingisconnected** seriously though. No one has the right to make you feel inadequate. Nobody. That includes yourself. OK?

Lance isn’t used to being the receiving end for comfort in this little relationship he has going. He initiated it because the guy was depressed, after all. It’s nice, knowing someone who he’s never even met could care so much. He brings a foot up onto the chair he’s sitting on, tucking himself into a ball and resting his chin on his knee. Whoever this person is, they are a gem. 

It’s not often he gets this sort of validation, from anyone. 

**hastalalater** thank you   
**everythingisconnected** no problem  
**everythingisconnected** if you’re anything like me, your greatest critic is yourself  
**everythingisconnected** so…  
**everythingisconnected** don’t be I guess?  
**hastalalater** yes boss ;)  
**everythingisconnected** don’t push it…  
**hastalalater** I think you secretly love the winking  
**everythingisconnected** whatever dude

****

****

****

Lance smiles to himself, distantly hearing Hunk roll out of bed.

**hastalalater** so what was so bad about your day yesterday?  
**everythingisconnected** you know the more I think about it, the more I think I was overreacting.  
**everythingisconnected** In retrospect I think i’m just out of practice in the whole being social department. I seem to make everything very awkward  
**hastalalater** ah man  
**hastalalater** we should actually meet someday. Hang out. I can teach you how to be cool as a cucumber B)  
**everythingisconnected** I look forward to it ;)  
**hastalalater** !!!!!!!! see you’re already learning  
**hastalalater** ;)  
**everythingisconnected ;)  
** **hastalalater** ;)  
**everythingisconnected** ;)  
**everythingisconnected** this could go on forever haha  
**everythingisconnected** I gotta go  
**everythingisconnected** have a good day ☺  
**hastalalater** you too ☺

****

God this guy is adorable.

At that moment, just as Lance begins to uncurl from his chair and brush the toast crumbs from his lap, Hunk emerges. He’s wearing his matching yellow robot onesie. Pidge has a green one somewhere, but they never wear it (“Is it a robot? Is it a lion? It makes no sense,” they once complained. “It’s a robot-lion, Pidge. Get it together, buddy,” Lance had replied).

“Yaaasss,” Hunk exclaims, fist bumping Lance at the dining table. “Loving this co-ordination, bro. We should do it more often.”

“We could wear them to work together.”

“ _Twinsies,_ ” Hunk sings. 

“Can you imagine just chilling in your pjs all day at work? That would be the sweetest uniform.”

“And you do love a man in uniform.”

“Not forgetting the ladies,” Lance adds smoothly. He dumps his plate and mug in the sink without washing them. Pidge can complain all they want, they haven’t done their morning’s dishes either. The window rattles ominously, promising another cold, windy day.

Lance wonders if Keith is inappropriately wearing a t-shirt again. 

Idiot. 

“Oh, I totally forgot. How was last night?”

The loud, obnoxious groan that Lance lets out would make anyone else jump. Hunk, however, has known Lance long enough to be prepared for any shrill noise he emits. 

“That bad, huh?”

“It wasn’t even bad. It was actually going really well, until Mullet turned up.”

“Keith was there? I guess that makes sense,” Hunk says reasonably, removing last night’s pizza from the fridge. Hunk had always preferred cold pizza. 

“Yeah, it makes sense, but it’s definitely not necessary.”

“I mean, he might have been asked to go. You know, for work reasons.”

“You know what I mean.”

“So, did you get to meet any fancy journalists?”

Lance almost forgot. He skips over to Hunk and wraps his arms around his neck, hugging him from behind his chair. “I totally hit it off with Allura.”

He wriggles under Lance’s arms. “God, you’re bony. Wait- Altea Allura?

“Altea Allura,” he repeats with a thick layer of smugness. 

“Good job, buddy!” Hunk says. “What did Keith do to mess up the night so bad?”

Lance tries not to feel upset by Ketih’s casual disregard for his aspirations in life. For whatever reason, he’s always cared about what Keith thought of him. And they’ve barely even spoken. 

“He was just generally rude. You know, as he tends to be. Told me I couldn’t be a travel journalist.”

“Ooh. That’s not nice.”

“It’s _not_ nice!” Lance agrees, happy for validation. “Anyway. I better get going or I’ll be late for my shift.”

“Sure thing, bro. Oh, Pidge wanted me to tell you- Matt’s gone away for a few days. Some sort of publishing research thing, I dunno. I think it’s a marketing conference?”

Lance makes an exaggerated snoring noise. 

“So we’ll have to hold the fort whilst he’s gone,” Hunk continues. 

“More shifts. More work. Yay…” Lance drawls as he shuffles to his room to get ready for the day.

Despite the not so great news, he’s feeling pretty good as he makes his way to work that morning. The weather has taken a turn- it’s windy, but not so windy that it bites at his skin. The sky is that powder purple blue that’s only possible during winter mornings, and the sun bleeds a weak yellow mist over the city. He could see his breath steaming up before his face. Without any shame, he blows out steam and imagines he’s a dragon. He plugs his headphones in, gets himself into the groove, and pumps himself up so much he almost fingerguns complete strangers as he bobs jauntily along to the music. 

When he gets to the shop, Pidge and one of the temps is stickering new stock and going through last week’s sales. 

“Wassup dudes,” Lance announces happily, throwing a salute to Pidge who barely looks up from the computer screen, the light bouncing off their hipster circle rimmed glasses. Pidge really fits in with the whole independent bookshop atmosphere. 

“My stupid brother has abandoned us for stupid work things and left us to run the shop. At Christmas time.” Pidge growls to themselves. 

“We’ll manage,” Lance says cheerily. It causes Pidge to look at him through a suspicious side eye.

“What’s got you in such a good mood? Is it because Ru Paul’s on tonight? Because you know our Netflix account has expired and my laptop’s not big enough to crowd around anyway.”

Lance pouts as he starts sorting the cash machine. “Uh, no, I’m actually just feeling happy. I’m a happy guy.”

Pidge’s squint narrows. “You look like you _like_ someone.”

This comes to a surprise to Lance who recoils and looks down at Pidge. “What? Why do you say that? You can’t tell that kind of thing just from my mood?”

Pidge begins to busy themselves with a terrifying looking spread-sheet beside Lance. “Uh, yeah I can. You get this dumb goofball smile and dreamy eyes when you have a crush on someone. It’s a Lance thing.”

He scoffs, hand flying to his chest in offense. “It is not a ‘Lance’ thing,” he exaggerates. “Besides, I don’t have a crush or anything. You’re mistaken, my tiny friend.”

“Is it that online friend of yours? Who makes super dark and depressing ‘read more’ posts?” 

Lance frowns to himself, thinking about this. He doesn’t think so? Not really. He likes talking to him and he puts him in a good mood, but it’s not like he actually has a crush on the guy. Maybe a tiny one, but not a real one. He reserves full on Lance crushes for people he’s actually met and can physically cling onto.

“Maybe it’s Keith,” Pidge says in feign disinterest, before pushing up their glasses along the ridge of their nose and smirking in a way that definitely makes them look like a fucking demon. 

“Ew! What? Gross, no, what? Fuck, no, what even, Pidge? Ugh,” Lance says in a litany of disgust, which, for some reason, sounds like it comes off kind of fake. 

“You are obsessed.”

“Back off, Pidge, I am not obsessed,” Lance replies, his words sounding a little more defensive than he expects. He slouches away, grabbing a pile of books and shelving them as he sinks into a new sulky mood.

“Geez, OK.” Pidge pauses, before muttering to themselves, “Coulda fooled me.”

“I can hear you.”

“Good.” 

The day is slow at first, but, finally, the shop starts to see its first signs of Christmas shopping. An old lady actually asks Pidge for some advice in what to get her grandchildren, and they direct her to Lance, the resident child. All jokes aside, he is more than happy to enthuse about how fucking rad the Percy Jackson series is (without the swearing, of course). He even gets to show her some of the cool new picture books that came in the week before, beautiful hard back bed time stories of reinvented fairy tales, set in space. 

Sometimes, Lance does enjoy working in a bookstore. So long as no one asks him about adult books, he’s totally cool.

On his morning break, he decides to drop Shiro an email with a link to his blog. 

From: LMcLame@gmail.com  
To: TakashiShirogane@altea-press.co.uk  
Subject: Cool to meet you

Hi Shiro,

Just thought I’d drop an email and say hi after our chat yesterday! Sorry to have run away suddenly and everything… that’s kind of a hard one to explain haha…?

Anyway, since you said I could be a super awesome amazing journalist someday, I’ve attached the link to my blog. Enjoy (I know you will, it’s probably the best blog you’ve ever seen :P).

Best wishes

Lance

P.S. Is it too forward to rock up and drop Allura a message? Don’t wanna seem to keen. At the same time kind of desperate for her to like me. Does that kill my cool vibe?

 

Lance sends the email and plays flappy bird in the common room, legs crossed out in front of him by the ankles, leaning back into the leather chair that seems to swallow him up. He’s put his hoodie on now he’s not on the shop floor, and he’s put the hood up to keep his ears warm- since the damn things seemed to stick out all the time. It’s only been a couple of minutes before he gets a reply. 

 

From: TakashiShirogane@altea-press.co.uk  
To: LMcLame@gmail.com  
Subject: And you, Lance! 

Dear Lance,

It was a pleasure to finally meet you yesterday! I’ve heard a lot from Matt and Pidge. All good things, I promise! 

I’ll take a look at your blog in my lunch break. I’m looking forward to it. I can already tell I’m going to like it. 

Don’t worry about last night. My brother can be a little uncomfortable, lets say, in social situations. He doesn’t make the best impression, but he means well. I suppose he has what they call resting bitch face, but it unfortunately extends to his personality. I hope you’ll have the time to get to know him one day- he’s worth the effort. 

That being said, I’m surprised you’ve managed to get under his skin quite so much. I’m taking it as a good sign.

Best wishes,

Shiro

P.S. Absolutely not- Allura is the kind of person who appreciates it when you take initiative. She doesn’t have much patience for people who hold back or don’t speak their mind. Drop her an email and she’ll be impressed, I’m sure. ☺

 

Lance laughs at the man’s writing style. It’s like he’s emailing his dad. Though, he doesn’t know what to make of his comment about getting under Keith’s skin. He snorts and disregards it.

His phone says he has a couple of minutes left of break, so he decides to brave it and write an email to Allura now.

 

From: LMcLame@gmail.com  
To: AlluraSmythe@altea-post.co.uk  
Subject: Cool to meet you

Dear Allura,

Thanks for giving me your contact details yesterday. Seemed a waste not to use it. So here I am, emailing the CEO of Altea Post. Hi.

Anyway, I don’t know if it’s worth linking you my blog since I’ve already sent it to Shiro, but since we got on so well yesterday, I figured why not? 

The invitation for you to swing by the bookshop is still there, by the way. You know, if you find my terrible flirting that charming. 

Best wishes 

Lance

 

Before he can reconsider whether he’s being too informal, he sends it. Because he doesn’t really think twice about these sorts of things, even if Hunk tells him he should be alter his conversation appropriately with different people. Allura loved his flirting, anyway. 

The response is instantaneous, which probably means its an automated email- except its not. Allura is busy so Coran has replied instead. 

 

From: AlluraSmythe@altea-post.co.uk, cc: CoranSmythe@altea-post.co.uk  
To: LMcLame@gmail.com  
Subject: Re: Cool to meet you

Dear Lance,

I see your flirtatious nature survives even in email, where tone of voice tends to be difficult to convey. Quite impressive! Not sure how you do it.

Allura is in a meeting right now, but she has told me that she’s planning to drop by the shop later this afternoon. If you’re lucky, you might even get to see this handsome face too!

Thank you for linking your blog, Lance. Allura looks forward to reading it. 

Best wishes,

Coran

P.S. Interesting email address. Ought I call you Mr McLame from now on?

 

Lance groans and buries his face in one hand. He keeps forgetting to change his fucking email address.

Lo and behold, three hours later, Allura and Coran make an appearance in the shop. Allura is dressed in striped culottes and soft looking turtle neck, and a camel coloured coat that reaches her ankles. Her platinum hair is braided and put into a smart bun, and Lance can’t help but feel that she is far too beautiful and regal to be in a shop like this. Coran, meanwhile, with his handlebar moustache, looks exactly like the kind of weird academic to frequent in this sort of bookshop. The shop is practically empty, so Pidge, Hunk, and Lance keep them company and make them coffee, talking about the new Italian place that’s opened up down the road, the Rockerfeller Christmas tree light event happening next week, the ice rink that’s opening up at Washington Street Park. 

Lance makes Allura laugh, and occasionally roll her eyes. There are times where Pidge and Hunk seem worried that he’s going too far with the flirtation act, sending him alarmed glances, but Allura just laughs at him, which is the response he’s looking for. And Lance isn’t the only clown- weird, that the CEO’s PA should have such an outward funny streak to him. Perhaps that’s why Allura’s so good at talking to Lance and dealing with his goofball nature- her family is full of them. 

All in all, it’s a lovely time, until Keith walks through the door.

He’s accompanied by Shiro, who gives a cheery wave to the occupants of room- which had now, suddenly, become a venue for a publishing party. 

Keith is wearing only a t-shirt under his coat. 

Even if he does look good in it, it’s totally not necessary. 

“Ah, the Altea gang are all here,” Coran announces. 

“Apart from our 115 other employees,” Allura adds, giving Coran a reprimanding look from her side of the coffee table. 

“Fine. Altea’s finest are here,” he amends.

Lance finds he can’t focus on the chatter that’s bubbling around him, as he glares at Keith. He’s stoically ignoring his looks, but Lance can tell he’s noticed. He hopes he feel uncomfortable. He hopes he lays awake at night thinking about his face.

Wait, what? 

“I thought I’d broach an idea with everybody,” Shiro announces, oozing coolness and authority whilst Keith is standing like a stiff board next to him, arms crossed in front of him.

“Oh, I do love Shiro’s ideas,” Allura says. “Go on Shiro.”

“Well, I’ve known Matt for a long time,” he begins, “and I’ve always promised to write a review for Holt’s bookshop, and never managed to get around it. I figured, what better time to write one than at Christmas time?”

“Oh man,” Hunk says, who’s brought over some of his chocolate Guinness cake. It’s left Coran in appreciative silence as he worships hips icing covered cake fork. “I’ve literally never met any of you people before and I already love you.”

“And I love you,” Coran says, staring mainly at the cake. 

Lance is perking up, attention actually moving away from Keith’s stubborn scowl that isn’t actually looking at him, but he knows is directed at him. “Shiro, that’d be amazing! Let me guess, you need a young, talented journalist to write it up?” he says, stroking his chin and cocking a playful eyebrow. 

“Whilst I love that idea,” Allura says, “I’m afraid you wouldn’t be able to write it, Lance, since you work at the shop. That wouldn’t be very creditable.”

Lance visibly slumps in his chair, and Hunk gives him a consoling pat on the back. 

“Shiro, this is… we need all the help we can get,” Pidge says sincerely. 

“I’m assuming Keith has something to do with this plan, hence his quiet sulking in the corner?” Coran says cheerfully. 

Lance and Keith share another glare.

“Well, I thought our resident bookworm would be the perfect candidate,” Shiro explained, nudging Keith with his shoulder.

“A wonderful idea,” Allura announces. “This really is a lovely little place, filled with lovely people, of course.” Hunk and Pidge wave dismissive hands at her, feigning bashful blushes. Lance, however, it too preoccupied by the absolute horror of the situation.

“Keith?” Lance exclaims. “But- but he’s-” he finds he doesn’t know enough about the guy’s writing style to complain. Especially since everyone, including his hopefully future boss, is looking at him expectantly. 

“Fine, I guess,” he finishes weakly. 

“I have other articles to write, so it won’t be published in the next couple of weeks,” Keith adds. “I’ll make sure it’s good.”

Hunk and Pidge seem convinced, but Lance sure isn’t.

“Keith is one of our best writers. He doesn’t write about anything he doesn’t care about,” Shiro encourages, patting Keith on the back. Keith doesn’t shift under his hand at all even though Shiro looks like he could probably hurl Lance across the room without trying. 

“Sounds good to me,” Hunk says. Lance shoots him a betrayed look. “What?” he whispers.

Once again, Lance can’t help but drown out everyone else’s conversation on the topic. Pidge telling Shiro about Matt’s business trip, whilst Hunk, Allura and Coran get to know each other a little better. If Lance knows Hunk at all, they’re talking about food. 

Instead, he’s watching Keith with narrowed eyes. He doesn’t expect him to actually start talking to him, which is why he sits bolt upright in his seat in surprise when Keith addresses him.

“What?” he demands, arms still crossed in front of his chest.

Lance recovers and pouts, gathering the empty plates and mugs from the table whilst the others chat. “Nothing.”

He turns his back to the group and heads to the staff kitchen by the till. He doesn’t expect to be followed, so he jumps out of surprise, again, when he turns around and sees Keith standing in the doorway.

“Holy fucking quiznak,” Lance stutters, almost dropping the mug he’s started washing. “This is staff only? You know? Only for staff? For staff alone?”

“I’m standing outside the doorway. It’s fine.”

It’s true, he is, but Lance is in no mood for semantics.

“Why’d’you come creep up on me anyway? Do you stalk people like this often?”

“What? I’m not- look,” Keith growls, “I came to apologise.”

Lance has stopped running the water in the sink and looks over at him with suspicion. He rolls up his sleeves to start washing, and sees Keith’s eyes watch the action. His lips pout as if Lance rolling up his sleeves pisses him off. Does the guy always look like he’s smelling something bad?

That being said, there’s a strong sense of triumph that courses through his veins when he realises he has the upper hand, here.

“Apologise?” he asks innocently. He distantly hears Hunk and Allura laughing about something.

“It’s come to my attention that I… can be an ass, sometimes,” he mutters. 

Lance fakes a startled gasp. “You? No.”

Keith sighs and rolls his eyes. 

“Well, since I’m the better man here, I’ll accept your apology,” Lance says. It’s strange, because he actually finds he’s enjoying this weird banter he has going with Keith, for whatever reason. He’s feeling high as he pretends to busy himself with washing up. 

“Oh, great, thanks,” Keith drawls, turning and leaving him to it. Lance can’t help but feel a little lonely when he goes. 

He’s just finishing up when he hears Allura announce that the Altea gang are leaving. Lance hurries out of the staff kitchen and gives them a cheery wave. 

“I’ll be sure to come by more often,” Allura says, wrapping herself back up to enter the cold. The windows have started to frost a little at the corners, and he can hear the wind whistling through the door. 

“Make sure you do,” Lance says with a smirk and a wink. Allura rolls her eyes with a smile. 

“As will I,” Coran says. “That cake will have me coming back, for sure, if not the company.”

Hunk bows dramatically. “I aim to please.”

“Some appreciation for the books might be welcome too,” Pidge says dryly.

“Of course, Pidge, we’ve got that covered,” Shiro laughs. “Don’t we Keith?”

“Sure,” Keith says a little non-committedly for Lance’s liking, but no one else appears to share the same concern.

Shiro tugs a hat on that makes his silver streak poke out comically, and Coran is actually wearing ear-muffs. It’s a ridiculous sight, especially beside the classy Allura. When they leave, Lance notices that Keith doesn’t follow. Instead, he takes a seat and pulls his laptop out of his satchel bag.

Lance looks at him pointedly. 

“I’m writing an article about the shop?” Keith says, like he’s talking to an idiot.

“And? Do you have to be here when you do it?”

“If you want me to actually write about it, then, yeah, I have to do research. Why, are you going to give me a reason to write a bad review?”

“Cool it, please,” Pidge says, holding up two hands. “I don’t get what… this is,” they say, gesticulating to both of them, “but you’re just going to have to get over it. OK?”

“Already over it,” Keith says, opening his computer. “I apologised. He’s the one who’s not over it.”

Lance scoffs, and can’t find any response. Hunk takes him by the shoulders and directs him to the other side of the considerably small shop, as if the tiny distance makes a difference. 

“Dude, please chill,” Hunk begs. 

“But-? I-?”

“Just keep yourself busy for now, OK? You’re going to have to be here for the rest of the afternoon and lock the place up alone. Try and find a way to not kill him?”

Lance stares angrily at the floor.

“Please?”

“You don’t need to ask,” Lance complains. “I know we need this publicity as much as you or Pidge. I’m not going to ruin that just because he’s here.”

Hunk visibly relaxes. “Well, cool. Good. In that case, come help me re-stock the shelves.”

He does. He almost forgets that Keith is behind them, until he notices him tap-tapping away on his laptop. His typing is obnoxiously loud. When he does manage to ignore it, though, he gets to chat to Pidge and Hunk about normal things- what’s for dinner, their annoying neighbours upstairs who can’t seem to keep it down. Ever. Including the middle of the night when they’re having sex. Pidge hypothesizes that they’ve actually broken up, because they were fighting the other day. It was loud enough that they caught the ends of some of the argument. 

“Oh, dude, I heard that too, and my room isn’t even underneath their living room like yours is,” Hunk says. He’s putting some of the new stock on the top shelf, whilst Pidge does the bottom shelves. Height differences working together, Lance muses affectionately. 

He’s enjoying the conversation, when suddenly he’s reminded that Hunk and Pidge have to go and leave him to lock up. And Keith is still there, typing, downing another cappuccino. 

Ugh. Keith. Keith. Even the name sounds awful.

Hunk sends him an apologetic smile as he peers through the shop window. Pidge is waving over-enthusiastically, clearly enjoying the pain that Lance is going to have to endure. 

The two of them are alone in the shop. 

Lance busies himself with stickering ‘buy one get one free’ on a selection of crime fiction novels. He drops the books into a box by his feet from a large enough height that it makes a loud thwump, and it makes Keith glare over his computer every time. 

Lance takes pleasure in the small things.

A youngish woman comes in and looks around for a minute or two, before Lance realises she’s searching for something. 

“Can I help?”

She looks at him with an appreciative smile. “I’m looking for some new crime fiction, and there’s so much bad stuff out there that I have no idea what to read next. Can you recommend me something?” 

Lance’s stomach drops. Where’s Pidge when he needs them?

“Uh, crime fiction isn’t really my forte, but I can see if I can help anyway?” he tries. He hears Keith snort loudly behind him. He visibly bristles, and the customer looks confused. 

“I’m sorry. Just ignore him,” Lance laughs awkwardly, hoping he’s cute enough to keep this lady interested. “My colleague’s the expert, and they’ve gone for the day, but…” he racks his brains, eyes settling one a book he knows he’s at least heard of and is fairly new. “This only came out a few months ago, and my colleague really enjoyed it, so…”

“Oh,” she says appreciatively turning it in her hands, reading the blurb quickly. “Yes, I have heard this is meant to be good.” Thank fuck. “Thank you, this is just what I’m looking for.”

“ _You’re welcome,_ ” Lance says pointedly, glancing over at Keith who’s rolling his eyes. The customer does another quick round of the shop before going to pay. Lance is feeling quite proud of himself, to be honest, even if Keith persists on acting like an asshole. 

Lance watches him typing from behind the till for a moment and considers his Tumblr friend’s words. No one has the right to make you feel inadequate. Nobody.

Lance nods to himself, before he’s brought back to reality. 

“Can I get another coffee?” He’s smirking at him. He’s enjoying ordering him around, the jerk.

Lance straightens up, his jaw tightening. He strides over to grab the empty cover cup, slamming it in the staff kitchen sink and starts making another one. 

He can hear Keith sigh loudly from the kitchen. 

“What’s your damage, anyway?” he demands. 

“ _My damage?_ ” Lance can’t believe this.

“Yeah. Your damage. I’ve apologised, and you’re still acting like a child.”

Lance almost burns himself on the hot milk as he jerks the fresh cup of coffee in surprise. “ _Excuse me_?”

“I’m trying to mend whatever shitty bridge there is between us, and you’re still being argumentative.”

“I’m being argumentative? I accepted your apology out of the goodness of my heart! Plus, you’re the one who apologised and is still acting all self-righteous. Like you’ve got better things to do than be here.”

“I’m not being self-righteous! You’re the one who keeps initiating it!”

“Am not!” Lance exclaims, storming back into the shop with a fresh coffee and slamming it on the table so that it sloshes around and almost spills entirely on the table. 

“Jesus,” Keith says, recoiling from the mug. “Can you chill, for, like, two seconds? Ever?”

Lance scowls and goes to sit behind the till. He slumps in the chair and folds his arms over his chest. 

“I’m totally chill. I’m as cool as a cool bean. What about you?”

“I’m _fine_. Stop arguing.”

“I’m not arguing! You’re arguing!”

“No you are!”

They both stare at each other and realise how ridiculous they sound at the exact same moment. Lance can’t help the laugh that creeps up on him, and hides his face behind his hands. Keith shakes his head to himself with a weary smile.

Lance stares up at the ceiling, adrenaline pumping through him. He tries to control his breath. He doesn’t know what it is about Keith that’s always managed to get his heart rate up.

After a few minutes of neither one speaking, Keith says quietly. “Why do you hate me so much, out of interest? Did I do something to you at college?”

Lance blinks up at the ceiling, taken aback by the sincerity to Keith’s voice, void of any anger or cruelty. Lance sighs, pouting to himself. 

“As much as I do hate you,” he begins, “I don’t actually hate you. Not all the time, anyway.” 

He doesn’t look at Keith when he says this, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on the ceiling. The other man is quiet for a moment. 

“Then why?” he asks, not without frustration.

It comes out more easily than he likes. “Because, Keith. You were always this cool, clever guy who got amazing grades without even paying attention. I always paid attention, I always tried. Even if people thought I was only goofing around. I’ve never been a natural like you, at anything. And then you just, left, and it was like…” . He shook his head. “Whatever. Then I find out you’re a journalist, which is something I’ve been working for since I graduated, and it just didn’t seem fair.”

Keith pauses. Shame makes heat rise to Lance’s cheeks.

“So, you’re… jealous? That’s what you’re saying?” Keith tries.

He scoffs. “You wish.” 

He can’t bare to see what Keith thinks of him right now, so he gets up and turns his back to the shop, putting the cash from the till in the safe for the end of the day. 

“You know it’s not that simple though, right?” Keith says to Lance’s back, who’s studiously busying himself with counting money, trying to appear indifferent. “I had reasons for dropping out. It’s not like I got here without trying, or having to deal with shit.” Lance wonders what that means exactly. “Look, all I’m saying is, there’s nothing to be jealous of. My life’s not that straight-forward.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Lance replies quickly. “I’ve spent my whole life being underestimated. Whether it’s ‘cause I’m Latino and everyone thinks I’m someone poolboy, or because I’m not naturally clever like Pidge. Or you.” He doesn’t know why he’s saying this to Keith, of all people. He’s not meant to be letting him get to him, after all. “All I’m saying, is it’d be nice to just get a job with Altea Press without even having a degree.”

He knows it’s harsh when it comes out, and he instantly regrets it. It’s not like him to say that kind of thing, and he thought it would make him feel better, but actually, now he kind of feels worse. Luckily, Keith doesn’t seem to take it personally. In fact, when he turns round to see his reaction, he’s smiling. 

“What?” Lance demands, without any of the confidence he wishes he has. 

“Nothing,” Keith shrugs. He looks at his computer. “I guess I didn’t realise anyone really knew who I was at college. I never really spoke to anyone.”

“Yeah, well, you made an impression,” Lance replies, leaning against the till. He doesn’t know why he’s smiling but he is. 

“Apparently so. Pretty impressive, since I’d never even held a conversation with you.” He cocks his head to the side, eyes still fixed on his screen. “Should I use my powers for good, or for evil?” 

Lance gawps. “Did you just make a joke? I didn’t know you were capable of something like that.”

“Yeah, well. You’d probably be surprised if you got to know me properly.”

“I suppose I’m gonna have to, with you working on this article,” Lance concedes, and the look that Keith gives him is indecipherable. 

“Right.”

“It works both ways though. If I have to endure getting to know you, you have to get to know me too. I’m not as dumb as you think I am.”

Keith frowns at him. “I don’t think you’re dumb. Why would I think you’re dumb?”

Lance has prepared himself for a witty retort, and is left floundering when he realises Keith hasn’t insulted him. He looks away, shifting uncomfortably under Keith’s gaze. 

“How’s the article going anyway?”

Keith looks back to his computer, and Lance is grateful, for some reason. “I’m not writing it right now.”

“What? What are you doing then?” he asks incredulously. 

“I’m writing my daily blog post,” Keith replies. 

“I thought you were meant to be, you know, writing a review of our shop?”

Keith looks at him wearily. “It’s not a priority. I have other articles that need to be done first. I said so before.”

Lance leans over the till, trying to get a look at Keith’s screen, even from the distance he’s standing at. Keith doesn’t look at Lance as he angles his laptop away from him. 

“Aw, come on. Stage fright?”

“If you want to read it so bad, follow my blog.”

Lance harrumphs, takes out his phone, and Google searches Keith Kogane. It suggests his Altea Post articles first, but a couple of links down, there’s his blog, keithkogane.wordpress.com. 

He’s logged into wordpress on his phone, so he follows Keith’s page. When Keith’s phone pings, he looks down at the screen and his eyebrows raise.

“You actually followed me?”

Lance looks away. “Yeah? I mean, I’ve got to get a sense of the competition, right?”

He smiles, and Keith smiles back. A strange, new development. 

“I still hate you, though.” He says this as he locks the safe and picks up the keys to close up the shop.

Keith takes the hint and starts packing away, barely pausing at Lance’s words. “What? Why! We had a bonding moment!”

“Nah, sorry. Don’t remember. Didn’t happen.”

Keith scowls at him as he slings his bag over his shoulder, going to put the coffee cup in the staff sink.

“STAFF ONLY,” Lance shouts through the shop, hovering in the entrance.

“WHATEVER,” Keith shouts in response. 

They leave the shop, and Keith waits for him as he locks up, the bell above the door tinkling as he does so. The air is cold, the sky is darkening rapidly. Lance hunches into his parka coat, in an attempt to warm himself up a little. 

“I’ll be round again tomorrow,” Keith says, turning to head down the opposite direction to Lance, turning up his collar to the cold. It makes him look so pretentious. 

Lance sighs dramatically. “Fine.” 

He ignores away the warm, tight sensation growing in his chest as they go their separate ways.


	3. Chapter 3

Keith is sitting in the windowsill of his and Shiro’s apartment overlooking central park. He’s cradling a cup of green tea and watching the people mill around far below.

He sometimes has to remind himself how lucky he is to live in a place like this- even if it is because he’s distantly related to the Galra family. He’d inherited a small fortune after Zarkon died. He didn’t even know he was related to them until a lawyer showed up one day with a will and family tree. It’s not something he likes to think about; Galra blood isn’t exactly something to be proud of. 

He’s been an orphan his whole life, and that’s the way he continues to see himself. Even with Shiro taking him under his wing. 

Still, there’s perks to being a footnote in a long list of corrupt, embezzling Galra businessmen. He’s here, after all, sitting in the windowsill of an art deco, listed building in New York. 

He finds himself wondering what Lance is doing today. It’s a Saturday, so he should have the day off- but it seems like with Matt gone, the team have to work even harder and longer hours than usual.

Keith has spent the past couple of days in the shop, whenever he has the time in between office hours. Allura has come in to say hello, too, whenever she’s been able to get out of a day full of meetings. She’s really not meant to be spending so much time out of her office, but she likes to escape now and then, it seems. She’s been charmed by the shop. And she gets on well with Lance. 

Lance.

That guy is… confusing. He doesn’t know whether Lance just tolerates him, whether he argues with him because he enjoys it. They still argue a lot, pretty much all the time, but not in a way that makes Keith think he hates him- it seems more like play fighting, and sometimes they have actual adult conversations. Keith isn’t really sure what his feelings are on Lance. He’s irritating- he acts like an idiot the whole time, even though he clearly isn’t stupid. He’s loud and obnoxious. When he allows himself to think about it for more than a second, Keith thinks he finds it a little endearing. Because that confident, goofy façade is pretty easy to see behind. Either way, it’s satisfying getting him flustered- something which is way too easy to do. 

Keith can make one snide comment, give him one sardonic smirk, and the guy flies off the handle. It’s hilarious, and it makes him laugh. 

Unlike those first few days after he met him at the shop, he enjoys spending time with him now, in a perverse way. Which is weird.

He sort of has no idea what their relationship is. He sort of hopes that Lance knows he’s not being serious when they argue. He sort of doesn’t know why he wants him to know.

Maybe because Lance is the first person to pay him any real attention in while, and he doesn’t want to blow the chance of, you know, making a friend. Even if Keith is too embarrassed to admit that.

That suddenly reminds him of his Tumblr pen pal. He pulls out his phone and logs in, and finds that he’s already got a message. Even if he does drive Lance away, he thinks, at least he has this dude.

 **hastalalater** uuuUUUUGGGHhhhhhh so I bumped into that asshole the other day, did I mention?  
**hastalalater** I swear to god he’s AWFul and Clueless and terrible  
**hastalalater** I do not like him

Keith snorts to himself, and begins typing.

 **everythingisconnected** what did he do this time? I thought you guys didn’t hang out much  
**hastalalater** we don’t technically  
**hastalalater** I would never willingly hang out with him. It’s a friend of a friend situation I guess, hard to explain  
**hastalalater** anyway he wouldn’t stop laughing at me and then he had the gall to ask what my problem was  
**hastalalater** so I’m like, uh, my problem is your face yo  
**everythingisconnected** haha  
**everythingisconnected** please tell me you said that to him  
**hastalalater** sadly, those were not my exact words  
**hastalalater** but he got what I meant  
**hastalalater** … to be honest I think I maybe took it too far  
**everythingisconnected** in what way  
**hastalalater** well like until now I’ve just kind of argued with him, but yesterday I kind of said something mean. Sinking to his level kinda  
**everythingisconnected** whats so wrong with that? Fight fire with fire  
**hastalalater** eh I dunno. It’s not really me. I instantly regretted it.  
**hastalalater** we might not like each other and he might like to make me feel inadequate but I don’t want to do that to anyone  
**everythingisconnected** I can see that. You’re a nice person  
**hastalalater** aw ;)  
**everythingisconnected** don’t take this the wrong way  
**everythingisconnected** I know I said that people’s intentions don’t really matter when it comes to being shitty  
**everythingisconnected** but maybe he doesn’t actually mean to make you feel that way. If that’s the case he probably wont take what you said personally  
**hastalalater** … he didn’t seem to, to be honest.  
**everythingisconnected** sounds like he’s got a classic case of stunted social skills  
**everythingisconnected** which I can kind of relate to  
**everythingisconnected** as someone who isn’t great at identifying or dealing with emotions, Im kind of guilty of saying hurtful things too  
**everythingisconnected** it doesn’t occur to me that it might actually upset someone until too late  
**hastalalater** huh  
**everythingisconnected** not that its an excuse  
**everythingisconnected** but next time you could point out when he says something actually mean, and not just argumentative

Keith thinks about this, and realises that he’s subconsciously giving himself advice rather than hastalalater. If he’s made Lance think he’s stupid, which he’d said he did the other day, then he’s definitely gone way over the boundary of arguing and into the realm of being straight up mean. 

He’s trying to work on it. Because Shiro has pointed it out to him more than once, and, well, he doesn’t want to actually be an asshole. Even if Lance does bring it out of him. 

He really hopes that their arguments continue to be playful, rather than genuine. 

**hastalalater** to be honest, I think that’s not a terrible idea  
**hastalalater** I mean, we don’t really have that kind of relationship. Like, technically, we don’t like each other  
**hastalalater** so I don’t see myself mentioning anything to him  
**hastalalater** I’m not sure its going to be a problem now anyway. I think we can learn to put up with each other  
**everythingisconnected** well that’s good I guess  
**hastalalater** he’ll learn to love me just like everyone else :P  
**everythingisconnected** hah im sure  
**everythingisconnected** are you sure you guys don’t have like, a thing going on?  
**everythingisconnected** cause it sounds a little like there’s some intense chemistry there :P  
**hastalalater** whaaaaat no way  
**hastalalater** I mean. He’s hot but. No  
**hastalalater** I definitely do not Like him, even if we can deal with each other’s presence  
**hastalalater** … my buddy did point out the same thing this morning tho. That I talk about him too much  
**everythingisconnected** you really do dude  
**hastalalater** no. definitely not that kind of chemistry  
**hastalalater** this is more the blowing up in your face kind of chemistry

Keith laughs, turns to see Shiro come through the front door, red in the face from his run.

“Morning,” he says, opening the fridge and finding some hideous vitamin shake that he keeps trying to force on Keith. “Sleep well?”

“Ok,” he says non-committedly, turning his attention back to his phone. “You?”

He doesn’t listen to the reply, and types his response instead.

 **everythingisconnected** lol whatever dude  
**everythingisconnected** let me know when you two have banged it out of your system  
**hastalalater** !!!! arruguughh  
**hastalalater** no  
**hastalalater** no no  
**hastalalater** NO  
**hastalalater** definitely not. No siree. No.  
**everythingisconnected** youre not convincing me 2bh  
**hastalalater** YOU ARE SO ANNOYING  
**hastalalater** I AM TERMINATING THIS FRIENDSHIP  
**everythingisconnected** go ahead. Go cry on his shoulder  
**hastalalater** FUCK YOU WHATEVER YOUR NAME IS

Keith laughs again.

“Talking to someone?” 

Shiro is looking at him with a little bit of hope, and it makes Keith’s insides shrivel up. He’s really that much of a loner.

“No,” he says, uncurling from the window seat and disappearing into his bedroom.

“Is it Lance?”

That makes Keith stop in his tracks. He pokes his head around the bedroom door. “No?”

Shiro shrugs innocently. “You two seem to be getting along a lot better these days, that’s all.”

Keith narrows his eyes at him. Shiro doesn’t look away.

“What, so we’re not at each other’s necks 24/7, we’re suddenly friends?” He goes to get changed, door ajar so he can keep talking to Shiro.

“Well, I just thought that… oh, I dunno. It doesn’t matter.” 

Keith stops for a moment, scowls, and pulls a cable knit jumper on. He comes back into the living room. “What?”

“No, it’s nothing,” Shiro waves at him dismissively.

“What is it?” Keith demands, getting no reply from Shiro as he starts whisking eggs to scramble. “Ugh. Fine.”

“Only,” Shiro begins, and Keith sighs loudly, “I thought maybe you might like him.”

“What? As in, like him like him?”

Shiro tilts his head from side to side, back turned Keith as he cooks. “Maybe. But who am I to know.”

“Uh, yeah, no. You’re definitely barking up the wrong tree, dude.”

“I’ve just never seen anyone bounce off you the way Lance does. You egg him on as much as he does you.”

“That… that doesn’t mean that we like each other,” Keith argues. Suddenly he feels a little hypocritical, after his conversation with hastalalater. “If anything, it’s the opposite.”

“But you said that it all started with a misunderstanding. That now it’s just playful banter” Shiro says, pointing a spatula at Keith. “Isn’t that what you said?”

Keith frowns at Shiro, who smiles a little triumphantly. He shakes his head and gathers his things to leave. “I’m not going to listen to this.”

“Don’t run away from this!” Shiro demands, pointing the spatula at him again accusingly. “You know as much as I do that you two have chemistry.”

Keith is leaving the flat, posed in the doorway. He says it before he can think better of it. “Yeah, well, it’s not the good kind of chemistry. It’s the blowing up in your face, kind.”

He slams the door, and he can hear Shiro laugh loudly through the wall as he storms down the corridor.

Before he knows it, he’s careering down the street, plugging his headphones in, and hopping down the steps of the subway. And then he’s walking through Hoboken, and the bookshop at the end of the street. 

He doesn’t know why he’s here, he doesn’t actually need to be. He doesn’t know why he thrives off talking to- arguing with Lance. He doesn’t know why he cares and he doesn’t know why Shiro has pissed him off quite so much. 

Keith doesn’t want to think about why his feet have taken him to Lance. 

When he opens the door, tearing out his headphones and catching the end of the bell tinkling above him, the first thing he’s greeted with is a gaggle of children clawing at Lance. 

They’re all about five years old or so, and they’re tiny compared to Lance, who’s a gangly bean pole. He’s ruffling their hair, scooping a little girl up in his arms, and he has a smile that’s wide enough that he’s showing off a pair of dimples Keith’s never seen before. They’re standing in the corner of the children’s section, and there has to be, what, six kids biting at his ankles? Pidge is taking pictures, and Hunk joking with Lance over the tops of the children’s heads about being a single dad.

The parents, Keith supposes, are the people laughing over a cup of coffee beside the till. 

“We should leave them with you guys weekend,” one woman jokes, and Lance honestly looks a little alarmed by the comment, if not flattered. 

Keith doesn’t realise how long he’s been staring, till Lance notices him and waves him down. 

Hunk then takes notice. “Ketih! Join the party man. Lance is about to do one of his famous book readings.”

Keith wonders over, crossing his arms over his chest, and smiles. He wonders if the warm feeling spreading through his chest has reached his face yet. “You can read?”

“ _Haha_ ,” Lance says, settling down on a stool= that’s far too low down for him, so he looks like a spider with his too long legs bend towards him- and answering a cacophony of demands of which book to read. Eventually they settle on one- We’re Going on a Bear Hunt.

Honestly, Keith is enraptured.

The way Lance does the sound affects, changes voices for each character, somehow makes everything hilarious, throwing the kids into fits of laughter. The children are watching in awe, hanging off every word, and quite frankly, so are all the adults. When the family in the story find the bear cave, he lets out the most realistic bear growl that Keith thinks he’s heard anyone attempt- not that many have tried in his presence. It makes the children scream in surprise and delight. The best part about it is his facial expressions- they’re exaggerated and ludicrous and match the tone so well that it has Keith laughing. 

“Again again again!” they children cry.

“Does he do this every weekend?” Keith leans over to Pidge and asks.

“Yup,” Pidge says, still taking pictures on their phone. “It’s a riot. Kids love him.”

And God, they really do. They’re bouncing around him, one child climbing into his lap. He holds him and talks to the child’s parents, like a natural. 

When Lance eventually manages to peel himself away from the children, he wanders over to Keith, a happy blush colouring his face. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks, without any accusation in his voice. He’s bright eyed and smiling and Keith is struggling to remember why he came. 

Oh yes. He didn’t actually have a reason, per se.

“This is a good place to work,” he manages. “It’s quiet. Usually.”

“Oh yeah, not on weekends, buddy,” Lance smiles, and suddenly a child is tucking himself under Lance’s arm, looking at Keith warily. 

Keith smiles at him. He smiles back.

“Joey, this is Keith. He’s my… friend,” Lance says with a grimace. 

Keith raises his eyebrows at Lance. “Oh, yeah. Friends,” he says sarcastically, watching Lance laugh before turning his attention to the child- who then latches themselves onto Keith, having apparently decided that he was trustworthy. 

Keith chuckles, and then suddenly Lance shouts “Attack!” and all seven of them are attaching themselves to Keith, who yelps in surprise.

“Oh man, I gotta snap this,” Pidge exclaims, scatching out their phone. 

“D’awwww,” Hunk coos. 

Lance is in fits of giggles, watching Keith being surrounded, and it’s so sudden that Keith’s laughing too- a real, genuine, bubble of laughter that comes from nowhere and catches him by surprise. 

When he looks up, the parents are saving him, and the children are all demanding that Keith read something, and Lance is looking at him with an expression he can’t read. 

He’s not sure he can perform on the spot like that, and he says so, especially since he doesn’t actually work there. The parents are understanding and comment on how good he is with children, nonetheless. It’s not something he’d known about himself until now. 

The parents and children leave, Pidge is counting cash with an evil gleam in their eye, and Hunk is thrusting a cup of coffee at Keith. “Dude, you deserve one on the house for that.”

“It’s fine, they were cute. Not exactly a swarm of deadly monsters.” Keith starts to unpack his computer at the coffee table he’s made his, and Lance is still looking at him, appearing a little nonplussed. 

“You thought that was a good plan didn’t you?” Keith asks Lance, who starts uselessly straightening up a stack of books which don’t need straightening. Hunk and Pidge are talking to a customer across the shop. “Setting a bunch of kids on me.”

“Seemed like a good attack strategy at the time,” he pouts. Keith snorts. “Nice article yesterday by the way.”

Keith looks up from his screen and blinks gormlessly at Lance. “You read my blog posts?”

Lance scoffs, giving off that confident face again that makes Keith roll his eyes. “Uh, yeah, duh. You’re my competition, remember?”

“Right.”

“That last line, what was it,” Lance gesticulates vaguely, “’This city is cold and cruel, but that doesn’t make it any less alive’.” Lance cocks an eyebrow. “A little pretentious, dontcha think?”

Keith frowns. “What’s pretentious about that?” he asks genuinely. “It’s true.”

“Sure. But, I mean, metaphors? A little poetic for journalism, isn’t it?”

Keith knows he’s only poking him to get a rise out of him. But that’s not going to stop him from responding. “Journalism is poetic. It’s rhetoric. Or maybe you hadn’t figure that out yet?”

Lance scoffs. “You were totally that kid at school who read poetry at the back of class and had the power of anime on his side, weren’t you?”

Keith is hurt by how accurate that actually is. “ _No_.”

“You so were,” Lance laughs, looking far too victorious than he has any right to. Keith decides to put a stop to the banter right there, because he has things to write and shit to do. So he knuckles down over his word document and blocks out the warm sensation in his face. 

What Lance doesn’t know, is that Keith actually reads his blog, too. And he’s really good.

Really, really good.

Lance clearly doesn’t know how to spell, but other than that he writes fluently and in a way that makes you think you’re having a conversation with him. He’s informal and light-hearted and poignant all at the same time, and Keith knows because has been reading up on his blog posts every night since he followed him on wordpress. 

For competitor research, obviously.

He’s working on the article about the new Italian restaurant down the block, getting into a good grove and absent-mindedly licking chocolate frosting from a cake fork (Hunk was one of the best bakers in the district, Keith swears). 

He didn’t notice the woman come in, so when she starts shouting, her presence comes as a surprise. 

She’s middle aged, greying hair, kinda short. An old, angry white lady. And she’s shouting at Lance, who’s holding a book up to his chest, wide-eyed and speechless. 

Keith looks around the room to try and find Hunk or Pidge, but neither of them are there. 

“Do I look like I need help? I can find my way around a tiny bookshop, thank you.”

“Yes of course! That’s not what I meant, I, I just-” Lance stutters, clutching the book tighter to his chest like a shield as the woman leans in further. 

“Do I look like I have dirty fingers? Do I look like I’m going to steal something?”

“N-no…?” Lance raises a confused eyebrow, his eyes darting around the room, looking for help. 

“Then why are you asking me if I need help? Do I seem that helpless?”

“No, ma’am, it’s, that’s my job-“

Pidge emerges from the staff room, and Keith is relieved to see some back up. He’s not sure he wants to interfere, since he’s certain he’ll say the wrong thing and make matters even worse. He’s not much of a peacekeeper. 

“What’s going on here?” Pidge asks.

“Are you the mana-?” The woman stops when she sees how small Pidge is. They’re only 19 years old, but they look like they’re 15. “Do you work here, young man?”

Pidge’s expression tightens. “I’m temporary manager. Is there a problem here?”

The woman scoffs, no doubt at how young Pidge is, and by Lance’s expression, which has twisted into a pout. “I’m here to browse. Is that allowed? Or am I going to be accosted by all of your help?”

The term makes Keith’s stomach twist, and before he can help it, he’s standing up, chair scraping loudly. It makes Lance look over, but Pidge and the woman are having a staring contest.

“You’re very welcome to peruse, so long as you respect our staff,” Pidge says, reading the situation quickly. 

She stands up straight, looking as if she thinks she has the upper hand. Which, as the customer, she technically does, even if she doesn’t understand that Pidge has just politely showed her the door. “I thought booksellers were meant to be intelligent.”

“ _Hey_ ,” Lance starts, a little weakly, oozing none of the confidence he usually brought with him to the shop.

“Hey!”

The words leave Keith’s mouth before he considers whether it’s the right idea or not. 

The woman barely registers him as he stands next to Lance and looks down at her with his best withering look. He’s good at those.

“You don’t get to talk to anybody like that.”

“Excuse me?”

“I think you should leave,” Pidge adds. 

Keith pins her down with her stare. He can feel Lance gawping at him, and tries not to let his expression soften.

“I cannot believe this! This- how dare you!”

“Shop assistants aren’t slaves. You don’t get to say or do what you want to them because you think you’re better.” Keith folds his arms in front of his chest.

The woman’s jaw drops. 

“I won’t be coming here again. I hope you realise that.”

“Fine by us,” Pidge says crossing their arms. 

The woman clearly wasn’t expecting to have anyone talk back to her. Nor did she expect a customer to come to their defence. She visibly shrinks, confidence disappearing, ugly pout pinching her face. She harrumphs before storming out the shop, slamming the door and making the bell tinkle. It’s a comical sound, oddly contradicting the aggressive action of slamming the door.

Lance lets out a long, shaky breath. A quiet whine eventually comes out, too, like a deflating balloon.

Pidge draws out a chair and shoves it beneath him before he collapses. 

“That was awful,” he says weakly.

Pidge is passing chocolate cake to him, and he takes it, glassy eyed. Pidge calls Hunk down. Keith is fuming. 

“I can’t believe that woman,” he growls. “Who does she think she is, talking to you like that?”

“She called me the help,” Lance says hoarsely, looking far too pale. 

“I know,” Pidge says, stroking his hair affectionately. 

“I’ve ruined the shop’s reputation,” Lance whispers, staring out of the window, wide-eyed.

“No you haven’t. I’ll make sure of that. I’ll write the best damn review you’ve ever read.”

Lance finally breaks eye contact with the wall and looks up at Keith. There are unshed tears in his eyes and it’s not a look he likes to see on Lance- Lance, who’s meant to be confident and laughing. It makes him fucking furious that anybody should talk to anyone like that, especially someone as well meaning as Lance.

“Bro, bro, bro, bro-” Hunk is blustering into the stop and dropping to his knees beside Lance’s chair. “What happened? Pidge messaged me?”

“Some crazy bitch came into the shop and blew up in Lance’s face for no apparent reason,” Pidge begins.

Lance is shaking his head weakly. Hunk looks up to Keith. “Did you see what happened?”

“I… not really. I only know she was shouting at him and losing her shit because he asked if she needed help? Or something?” he prompts Lance.

Lance takes a deep breath. “She looked confused and like she was looking for something, so, I, you know, asked her if she needed help looking for something, as you do.” He scrubs his face with one hand, before shoving a slab of cake into his mouth. He takes what looks like a very painful swallow, considering the amount he just ate, and continues. “And she was all, ‘why are you asking if I need help? Why are you following me? Do I look like I’m going to steal something?’”

“What the fuck?” Pidge says.

“I know,” Keith adds.

“And then I think Pidge came downstairs, and then she was all, ‘am I going to be accosted by all your help?’”

“Nooooo,” Hunk exclaims.

Keith lets an angry breath out through his nose, dragging a chair and sitting in front of Lance, who’s looking like he’s getting some of his energy back. 

“That’s the point where I told her to either stay and shut up, or fuck off,” Pidge says. 

“And then she said, ‘I thought booksellers were meant to be intelligent,’ looking, like, directly at me,” Lance, waving his fork around aggressively. There are angry tears in his eyes, and Keith doesn’t miss the way his bottom lip wobbles. 

“You’re kidding,” Hunk says soothingly, squeezing Lance’s arm. 

“And then Keith came to the rescue and tore her to shreds,” Pidge says. 

The three of them turn to look at Keith, who shrugs weakly. 

“Thanks, bud,” Hunk says sincerely. 

“I couldn’t let her speak to you like that,” he says, looking up at Lance. He’s giving him a watery smile. 

“Does this mean we really are friends now?”

Keith wrestles with a smile that’s forcing his way onto his face. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

Lance seems to smile at him knowingly, before responding with a scowl. “You’re so meaaaan,” he whines. 

And just like that, they’re back to their ordinary banter.

And Keith feels something change within him.

He makes his way home that afternoon unable to relax. The whole reason he’d left the flat was because Shiro was making fun of him, and it was winding him up. Now, he finds that going to the quiet Hoboken bookshop has actually made him feel more unsettled. He’s still not even sure why he went there in the first plac. That’s not to say he’s not feeling quietly content (if not also still angry at that customer) as he stands in the stuffy subway carriage, pulling at the neck his sweater to cool himself down. No, he’s, quite bizarrely, feeling happy. The frustration he’d felt that morning has been replaced by a pleasant buzz. But its anything but calm. No, it makes him want to get off two stops early and run to Central Park. 

He can’t find any other explanation for it than Lance.

It’s been a while since he’s hung out with people, like, properly hung out, for social reason. And he’s finding he enjoys being in the bookshop with Lance, Pidge, and Hunk. Even if Lance does get on his nerves. And yet there is something about Lance in particular that leaves him feeling… well, happy. Despite the way he riles him up and always seems to be looking for an argument. 

The warmth in his chest unsettles and begins to ache. 

He gets off the subway and instead of heading to the flat, goes for a walk through the park. Because if he couldn’t deal with Shiro’s teasing this morning, he really can’t face it right now. His hands slide into his pockets and he walks at a pace that is absolutely not leisurely. He likes the peace and quiet. He misses the countryside and the trees and the sound of silence. He usually therefore enjoys a quiet walk through the park. But, well, central park isn’t exactly all that quiet, and neither are his feelings. So he practically power walks past the dog walkers, the runners, the yoga groups who are inexplicably doing yoga in the freezing cold. Once again, he doesn’t think about where his feet are taking him- he lets his instincts do the work. 

He’s not sure what to make of his instincts at the moment.

Why can’t he stop thinking about that bookshop? Perhaps its because the article is on his mind.

More importantly, why the hell can’t he stop thinking about Lance? Is he so desperate for some social interaction that even the most irritating person on the planet is occupying his every waking thought?

Keith supposes so, and has to remind himself that whilst he doesn’t actually hate Lance, he’s not sure he really likes him either. Their relationship is based on a mutual enjoyment arguing and tacit respect. If that meant they became friends eventually, that’s fine too, but nothing to worry about. Nothing to warrant thinking about him all the fucking time. 

Keith growls to himself. Even when he’s actively trying not to think about Lance, he’s thinking about him.

Maybe it’s because he’s just that annoying- he’s an irritating worm that’s wriggled his way into his psyche and he just can’t seem to get him out. 

He harrumphs and takes his phone out, narrowly dodging a cyclist who almost goes careering into him. Asshole. He gingerly takes off his gloves and begins typing.

 **everythingisconnected** so I have a problem

Keith frowns, deletes, retypes as he walks, his breath steaming up his vision. Frosting leaves crunch beneath his feet.

 **everythingisconnected** so you know how 

He scowls at his inability to ever fucking express anything and deletes the sentence again. He speeds up subconsciously, and people are parting like the red sea around the guy who looks like he’s about to kill someone through his phone screen. 

**everythingisconnected** I need some advice

He presses send before he can reconsider, because otherwise he’ll be there all day and he really does need a second opinion. And he can’t muster the courage to talk to Shiro and give him any satisfaction from the situation.

He’s pocketing his phone when he feels it vibrate. Shit, that was fast.

hastalalater good timing, you caught me on my lunch break ☺ im all yours

Keith ignores the way the phrasing makes his heart jump. His feelings just won’t behave themselves at the moment.

 **everythingisconnected** thanks  
**everythingisconnected** uh now I think about it im not sure where to start  
**hastalalater** no worries  
**hastalalater** you don’t have to talk about it like right away anyway, any kind of conversation is appreciated  
**hastalalater** ive had a really fucking weird day and need some distraction ha  
**everythingisconnected** me too to be honest  
**everythingisconnected** its actually kind of a weird coincidence  
**everythingisconnected** you know how I was teasing you this morning about having chemistry with that asshole  
**hastalalater** no. I’ve forgotten entirely  
**hastalalater** it never happened  
**everythingisconnected** rriiiiight. Well  
**hastalalater** wait wait! Are you going to tell me you have a Special Friend??  
**everythingisconnected** what the fuck is a special friend  
**everythingisconnected** are you five years old?  
**hastalalater** you totally have a special friend.  
**hastalalater** sooooo what are they liiikkkee

Keith almost throws his phone away, to be honest. He supposes it’s what he deserves after giving the guy a hard time that morning. He keeps walking through the park, pace beginning to slow to a gentle wander. His fingers are getting stiff from the cold, and typing becomes a little more difficult.

 **everythingisconnected** Its not like that  
**everythingisconnected** its just, kind of, im not sure  
**everythingisconnected** like I said I don’t know where to start. Im making it sound a lot more complicated than it is  
**everythingisconnected** there’s not even really an issue  
**everythingisconnected** anyway I guess it started a few days ago when I met him, except we knew each other already. Kind of. I don’t know  
**hastalalater** I literally don’t understand what you’re talking about. You’re not making any sense right now  
**hastalalater** did you meet him for the first time the other day or no?  
**everythingisconnected** for simplicity’s sake lets say yes  
**hastalalater** … ok  
**everythingisconnected** anyway he’s a good guy but it feels a lot like he’s out to get me. Like, 24/7  
**hastalalater** paha! I know the feeling buddy  
**hastalalater** well maybe its like you told me, maybe he doesn’t realise he’s doing it?  
**hastalalater** people are weird and confusing  
**everythingisconnected** they really fucking are. I am so confused by him  
**everythingisconnected** he makes no sense???? One minute he’s happy and joking around and it feels like we could actually get on  
**everythingisconnected** the next he’s telling me I’m an asshole??  
**hastalalater** I don’t think ive ever heard you this stressed out man! Look at all that unnecessary punctuation  
**hastalalater** ok in all seriousness though. You were kind of right this morning. Not about me liking my guy, because I Don’t ok  
**hastalalater** but you are right in that some chemistry is kind of misleading  
**hastalalater** it kinda sounds like he likes you. Hiding behind his feelings by arguing with you  
**everythingisconnected** … I dunno

Keith looks up and suddenly realises he’s in a part of central park he doesn’t recognise. Well, fuck. He spots a bench and decides to nab it. It’s frosty and it makes his ass cold. 

hastalalater look just face it you’re a cute guy and somebody has a crush on you  
hastalalater they just totally don’t know how to deal with it

Keith laughs out loud at this. 

**everythingisconnected** what, like, being defensive and continuing to act like they hate me even though they say they dont  
**everythingisconnected** because they like me  
**hastalalater** a crush? On you? Its more likely than you think  
**everythingisconnected** so. What youre saying  
**everythingisconnected** is that he’s hiding behind an argumentative façade?  
**everythingisconnected** and he’s denying that there’s any real chemistry?  
**hastalalater** … I don’t like what you’re insinuating, mr  
**hastalalater** as much as I can see why you’ve reached that conclusion  
**hastalalater** nope. Nuh-uh  
**everythingisconnected** well, me too. There’s no attraction there at all  
**hastalalater** well ok then  
**everythingisconnected** yup  
**hastalalater** …  
**everythingisconnected** …?  
**hastalalater** nothing  
**everythingisconnected** … ok  
**everythingisconnected** well at least we’re both completely incapable of social interaction  
**hastalalater** speak for yourself :P  
**everythingisconnected** whatever dude you’re just as useless as me  
**hastalalater** :O  
**hastalalater** we’re not friends anymore  
**hastalalater** ive decided you’re a big jerk and I don’t like you  
**everythingisconnected** ;)

Well that conversation cleared absolutely fucking nothing up, Keith decides, as he peels himself away from the icy bench and tries to figure out how to get back to his flat. It doesn’t take him long to get to the point where he can see his apartment building. When he lets himself in, Shiro is writing something up on his computer. 

“Hey. You’ve been gone a while.”

“Yeah, thought I’d take a walk, go visit the shop.”

Shiro looks at him. Keith stares him down. 

“That sounds nice,” Shiro says mechanically.

“Yup,” Keith says, settling next to Shiro on the sofa and pulling out his own laptop. He rubs his hands together, trying to warm them up again. 

“How’s the article going, by the way?”

“Fine, I’m about to write it up. What are you doing?”

Shiro lets out a long sigh. “Actually, I’m emailing some of your relatives.”

Keith turns to look at him, trying to do the math. “What do they want?”

He rubs the back of his neck, as if he’s trying to decide whether to tell Keith the whole truth. “It’s to do with your adoption letters.”

“Still? I’m twenty three years old, how are they still making this an issue?”

Shiro sighs again. “I don’t know. I think they’re just used to getting their own way. Anyway, it looks like I’m going to have to go pay them a visit in Texas in the next coming weeks.”

“No. Shiro, you’re not my guardian anymore. You shouldn’t have to do this- let me talk to them-”

“No. Everything we’ve been doing in this case has been under my name. I have to go.” Keith opens his mouth to argue, and Shiro stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle it. They won’t bother us again after this.”

Keith is flooded with a sense of guilt and apprehension that he can’t push away. 

“Shiro…”

“Seriously, don’t worry. They can’t touch me. I’ve got Allura’s lawyers on my side this time.”

Keith supposes that is some consolation. Allura has a lot of sway over a lot of people, somehow. She’s one powerful lady. 

They spend the rest of the day writing, talking, watching movies. Keith doesn’t know what he’d have done without Shiro. He manages to distract him long enough from the burning feeling in his chest that he almost forgets about Lance, and whatever it is that’s going on between them.

Almost.


	4. Chapter 4

Lance wakes up on Sunday morning and is so, so ready for his day off. 

He’s gonna get his chill on. He’s gonna finally use that face mask he got for Christmas last year, he’s gonna put on some sweet tunes, and he’s gonna rub it in Pidge’s and Hunk’s face.

Except, he figures he probably shouldn’t. Especially since Pidge has told them that Matt is stuck in Japan and can’t fly home because of weather warnings on both ends. It’s looking increasingly like they’re going to have to deal with the lead up to Christmas without his help, and it’s pretty daunting. Technically, they can barely afford to give out days off like this.

Which is exactly why Lance is going to appreciate his that bit more. Really relax.

When he gets an email from Allura, his plans change.

From: AlluraSmythe@altea-post.co.uk  
To: LMcLame@gmail.com  
Subject: A proposition…

Dear Lance,

I have a proposition for you- there’s an assignment that’s come up and it’s rather urgent. I can’t find anyone to do it in house as they’re all too busy and are being worked to the bone (or so Shiro has warned me). 

I believe this would be the perfect opportunity for you to show me those skills you’ve been boasting about!

Come over to our office at 111 East, 18th street, and I’ll give you more details if you’re interested? I’m in the office all day (yes even on a Sunday ☹)

Best

Allura

 

Lance blinks at his phone as he lies in bed for a moment, before yelping and leaping out from under the covers, punching the air.

He jumps around and screams happily for a moment before shakily responding to the email.

From: LMcLame@gmail.com  
To: AlluraSmythe@altea-post.co.uk  
Subject: A proposition you say? ;)

Hi Allura

I’m so ready to show you my skills.

I’m on my way over now- see you in thirty minutes

Best

Lance

 

He spins around in a panicked circle, trying to remember how to get ready for the day, before tearing his clothes off and showering. The water comes out in dribbles, and the pipe coughs ominously, but Lance doesn’t care this morning. He throws on his nicest turtle neck jumper and wrestles into his skinny jeans. The fact that he’s rushing doesn’t make it any easier, and he almost falls flat on his face as he hops around the room trying to pull them on. 

He grabs his bag and beanie hat, because its cold as hell, before noticing that it’s started to snow. So he shoves his feet into his boots, not doing up the laces before leaving the house and slamming the door hard enough behind him that the next door neighbours tell him to shut the fuck up. 

He’s forgotten his gloves, so his hands have gone red. But that doesn’t matter to him as he practically skips to Altea Post’s HQ. 

When he finally reaches the building in question, his skip slows and he comes to a reverent stop, head tilting back as far as it would go to see the top of the skyscraper. 

“Woah,” he says to himself, feeling a little overwhelmed as he enters the building. Even more so, when he’s stopped by security and asked for ID, so he has to tell him that he’s been invited by Allura. The front desk call her to ask for verification, which, thankfully, he gets, and he’s given a visitor’s pass.

Shit’s fancy. Marble shiny floors and modern art kind of fancy. 

Lance reaches the fifth floor, which is where the Altea Post offices end. Above them, there’s the New York Times and Time magazine. It’s a surreal experience as he enters the new offices with glass walls and colourful photography. He wanders past the journalists working away and he’s almost lost in a trance when finally reaches the end of the long corridor, where Allura’s office is. Coran pokes his head around the door next to it.

“Lance!” he announces happily. “Good to see you, my boy. Allura’s waiting for you.”

“S’up Coran. Thanks.”

He knocks and lets himself in at Allura’s response, who’s sitting behind a large white desk. There are photos of who he guesses are her family. There are also cross-stitched mice by her computer, which is confusing and random.

“Lance,” she says happily. “Sit.”

He does, and hopes he doesn’t look as nonplussed as he feels.

“I have an assignment for you, if you accept. Now, I can’t pay you, but-”

“Yes,” he says before she’s finished. “I’ll totally do it. Anything.”

She laughs. “Well, you’ll have to spend money. It’s a new ramen restaurant that’s opened up two blocks down and I need someone to write about it now, since it’s only just opened its doors. I want to publicise it now whilst it’s still hot.”

“I can do that,” he says confidently.

“I’m going to send one of my finest writers with you, to show you the ropes. Since, of course, we have an in-house style. It’ll be a nice break for him, as I’m pretty certain all he does is write. It’ll be a video job, so we’ll need you to edit and caption it.”

“Sure,” he says. 

“Consider it work shadowing,” she says. “If this article goes well, you might be able to do some more.”

“Awesome!”

“Excellent. Keith should be coming to collect you any moment now.”

Lance’s stomach drops. “Keith?”

“Yes,” she said with a hint of amusement. 

“No offense, but I don’t think Keith has every enjoyed anything in his entire life. If he’s there when I’m filming, I’m pretty sure he’ll suck the life out of the video.”

Allura only laughs, standing up to show him out of the office. Lance doesn’t feel like he can complain, even if he is loathe to share his journalistic debut with Keith fucking Kogane. 

Then again, maybe the guy’s not as bad as he thinks. Maybe he should give him a real chance. Especially after yesterday’s drama. 

Lance waves goodbye to Coran and Allura, who gives him a huge contract to sign and return within the next few days, as well as some guidelines to Altea Post’s in-house style. 

When he emerges from the elevator and gets to the ground floor, he can see Keith hovering outside. He’s wrapped up in a scarf and he’s shuffling from side to side to keep warm. 

“S’up dumbass. What are you doing waiting outside?”

Keith spins round to view him, and Lance is taken aback from his rosy, cold-bitten cheeks. Whatever warmth it brings him is gone when he measures Keith’s scowl.

“What they hell? How did you get in?”

“Uh? I went to see Allura? I thought you knew that, being here to take me to that ramen joint.”

“I didn’t know you’d seen her in person,” he grumbles, and they fall side by side as they walk down the street. “Wouldn’t have frozen my ass off waiting for you otherwise. On my day off.”

Lance scoffs. “Allura says your not cool enough to have a day off. Spending your whole time working. Consider this a favour,” he says with a flourish. “I’ll show you what it’s like to have a social life.”

“Oh yeah, I can’t wait to spend my Sunday with you,” Keith says sardonically. “Besides, this isn’t a social visit. It’s business.”

“Fine.”

They exchange similar insults for the short journey it takes to reach the ramen place, Kagimotoya. It has a traditional curtain door, and yet it’s so warm inside that you wouldn’t be able to tell. The place is busy with new business, and Lance and Keith take two free stools at the bar. Lance revels in the steam that billows over the counter, watching the chefs chop the fresh vegetables and boil the ramen. He takes his phone out and takes a short shot of the room. Keith orders for them- one vegetarian ramen, one pork, a few side dishes to get a good idea of the menu’s range.

Keith’s wrapping his hands around a cup of green tea when Lance breaks the silence. “Thanks for yesterday, by the way.”

Keith cocks an eyebrow. “I’m not actually an asshole, you know, as much as you make me out as one.”

“Hmm, I disagree,” Lance says, filming the chefs at work on his iPhone. 

“Yeah, you would,” Keith mumbles. He sighs. “You’re not filming from the right angle.” He tries to take his phone off him, and Lance snatches it away.

“Hey, hands off. I know what I’m doing.”

“No, you don’t. That’s why I’m here.”

“Then just tell me how to do it, don’t try and take my phone from me,” Lance pouts.

“I am trying to tell you. Why do you take everything so personally? God you are impossible,” Keith says, and Lance studiously ignores him, sending him the occasional glare. He does fix his camera angle at Keith’s instruction, however, and he’s glad that Keith doesn’t make a fuss out of it.

They end up talking though- about nice, mundane things, like the weather and food and what they like to do on days off. Lance isn’t surprised to hear that Keith likes to read when he can, but he doesn’t expect to hear that he’s from Texas, and used to horse ride. It leaves him fucking spluttering, slapping his knee with laughter. He revels in the way it makes Keith blush and argue that he is in fact not a cowboy thank you very fucking much, even if Lance keeps laughing and saying that he is.

Either way, he’s in a much better mood when the food arrives. He pulls his chopsticks apart and is about to attack his bowl when Keith grabs his wrist. He’s surprised by the contact and even more surprised by the way it sends electricity down his spine and makes his stomach churn, not unpleasantly.

“Hey!”

“You have to film it first, dipshit, or at least take a photo.”

“Oh. Right.” He takes a five second film of his bowl, before swapping them round so he can get a shot of Keith’s. His is fucking delicious- steaming and comforting and salty, and he almost forgets that he’s meant to be making mental notes so he can caption the video. He leans over to try and grab some of Keith’s, and they have a full on chopstick war over one of the mushrooms. Keith does not like sharing food, which, naturally, spurs Lance on even more in the name of ‘getting the full experience for the article’. 

At one point, Lance almost falls off his chair trying to jab Keith with his chopsticks, and Keith is leaning away from his so drastically that he bumps into the person beside him, and he has to apologise, totally embarrassed. Lance lives to see him flustered.

“You’re such a fucking child,” Keith says, but it’s with a smile, and Lance is thinking that maybe this chemistry was the good kind. Not that kind of chemistry, but the best frenemies kind. 

“Yeah, well, get used to it, because after this is published, people are going to be demanding more from Lance McLain.”

“And then we’re going to have to hang out even more.”

“Yup.” He glances over at Keith, who’s worshiping another cup of green tea between his hands. He hopes, quite suddenly, in that moment, that they really are actually becoming friends. And he hopes that Keith knows he doesn’t actually dislike him, because he’s a good guy. “That’s not so bad, though, right?”

Keith smiles and Lance grins obnoxiously at him. “It’s not the worst. But only if you don’t get under my feet. I don’t want to have to babysit the intern.”

“Whatever. You won’t be so self-righteous when the tables turn and I become a better journalist than you.”

“Uh-huh,” Keith says rolling his eyes.

All in all, it’s a successful trip. They split the bill, and they leave the restaurant bumping shoulders.

“I’ll drop you a message when I’m done and it’s posted,” Lance says, hands in pockets, walking backwards and watching Keith go the other direction.

“Cool,” he replies. “I’ll come by the shop tomorrow to finish my article. Should be posted soon.”

“Sweet. See you round Keith.”

“Yeah… see you round, Lance.”

They share a glance that Lance can’t put into words. It wasn’t friendly, it wasn’t exactly smiling. But it felt vulnerable- like they were both looking past each other’s facades. Lance dips his head away and inexplicably finds a blush rising to his cheeks.

When he’s editing the video later that night, he puts in a clip with Keith in it. As much as it behoves him to admit, he adds a… certain something.

000

Keith gets the Facebook notification two days later when he’s reading a book in his windowsill. Altea Post always tag the writers in their posts for crediting reasons, so he figures its one of his, and ignores the notification. He doesn’t like reading the comments, and if he clicks on the article link he always ends up giving in peaking through them. Even amongst all of his fans (of which he has many, strangely, and he thinks it must have something to do with the fact that he appears in some of his videos, so they know what he looks like) there are always negative comments, and it does nothing for his self-confidence.

It’s only when he’s scrolling through Facebook later that day and sees Lance’s status that he realises he’s been tagged not in one of his videos, but in Lance’s. 

**Lance McLain**  
25 November Hoboken, New York City

Yo waddup peeps I’m a journalist now. Yep. That’s right. Pleaaasee watch and share my video, it’s cool I promise. Also there’s **Keith Kogane** ’s face I guess

 

Keith stares at the status for a moment, before watching the video. 

Oh dear god. That’s him, slurping ramen noodles, and looking totally red in the face from being out in the cold and sitting in a steamy ramen restaurant. Oh sweet fucking quiznak.

He is going to kill Lance.

He opens up messenger and creates a conversation with Lance. He’s online.

_Lance McLain_  
You’re friends on Facebook  
Works at Holt’s Bookshop  
Lives in Hoboken, New York City 

_Say hi to Lance with a wave_

Uh, no.

 **Keith Kogane** Lance what the fuck  
**Lance McLain** uhhhhh hi?  
**Lance McLain** aren’t you going to congratulate me? :3  
**Keith Kogane** what the fuck is your problem  
**Keith Kogane** I look so bad in that video and I know you did that on purpose  
**Keith Kogane** you’re jeopardising my reputation  
**Lance McLain** yOu’RE JeoPARDIisNG My rEPuTatiON  
**Lance McLain** cool it boi  
**Lance McLain** you look fine. Like seriously  
**Lance McLain** The video looked better with someone actually in it  
**Keith Kogane** you were in it!!!  
**Lance McLain** yeeeeesss but it looked kinda sad me being by myself so I added you too  
**Lance McLain** … honestly I didn’t think I needed to ask permission, you knew I took the video  
**Keith Kogane** yeh but only because I thought you were fucking around  
**Lance McLain** ok ok look im sorry  
**Lance McLain** genuinely  
**Lance McLain** misunderstanding  
**Keith Kogane** fucking hell. You are so going to pay for this  
**Lance McLain** BRING IT ON DOUCHE BAG  
**Keith Kogane** this is war. You realise that  
**Lance McLain** oh I know what im about son  
**Lance McLain** and by the way. I have not jeopardised your reputation  
**Lance McLain** have you not seen the comments? They’re all losing their shit. Your fans are all like ‘ooooh who’s Keith’s hot friend’  
**Keith Kogane** seriously. ffs lance  
**Lance McLain** what im not even kidding. They love my face. Check the comment section, for realz

He does, and oh my god, he’s not wrong. People are actually talking about Keith Kogane’s new friend Lance McLain, who is this guy, is he knew, have they known each other long, is he a food writer, is he an intern, are they dating?

 **Keith Kogane** holy fucking quiznak  
**Lance McLain** right  
**Keith Kogane** you’re going to let this get to you’re head aren’t you  
**Lance McLain** h oho h oho yes

Keith is going to wring his scrawny little neck. He’s about to reply when he gets another message from his group chat with Allura and Shiro.

 **Allura Smythe** Keith have you seen Lance’s video! It’s getting a wonderful response. I think you two should work together more often.  
**Keith Kogane** …. Allura……  
**Takashi ‘Shiro’ Shirogane** I think she’s right Keith  
**Keith Kogane** you always do  
**Takashi ‘Shiro’ Shirogane** there’s a nice dynamic to Lance’s recent post and I think it would do your articles some good if there’s a more social setting  
**Takashi ‘Shiro’ Shirogane** your videos are always excellent, don’t get me wrong, but they could be even better with a more laid back, fun attitude  
**Allura Smythe** and Lance is very laid back and fun. There is nothing more laid back and fun than reviewing cool places in NYC with a friend ☺  
**Keith Kogane** ….  
**Keith Kogane** if you think it’s the right thing to do, then sure.  
**Keith Kogane** but don’t get it in your head that we’re friends. 

He knows he’s lying to himself when he writes it. 

**Takashi ‘Shiro’ Shirogane** ☹  
**Allura Smythe** ☹  
**Keith Kogane** seriously  
**Allura Smythe** you two are silly boys. This will be good for you.  
**Allura Smythe** im sending you to try Georgio’s Pizza in the Bronx next  
**Allura Smythe** Lance is from there so he’ll know some great shots of the area  
**Keith Kogane** right. Fine. I’ll message him about it and we’ll try go on his next day off  
**Takashi ‘Shiro’ Shirogane** you have to make a reservation, it’s getting pretty busy. You two can go after his shift at the shop ☺  
**Allura Smythe** ☺

Keith is highly suspicious of their behaviour and really hopes Shiro hasn’t told Allura his theory about Lance and Keith’s… chemistry.

All of this talk about assignments reminds him he needs to message Pidge about those photos of Lance doing his reading. He brings up their messenger chat.

 **Keith Kogane** hey. So im finishing up the article and was wondering if I could grab a couple of photos from you, of Lance doing that book reading with the kids?

They haven’t been online for a couple of hours- he’s guessing they’re working, so he decides to worry about that article later. He busies himself with editing the wording for a while, in between reading his book. 

_Pidge Holt sent you a message_  
**Pidge Holt** oh yeah fuck sorry I completely forgot to send those. Wait a tick

Keith does, looks out of the window. The snow is coming down in thin wisps of white- it almost looks like it’s not snowing at all, except for the fact that the side walks are dusted with an icing sugar coating.

_Pidge Holt has sent an image_

Keith opens the image and is briefly taken aback by its contents. It’s not like he wasn’t there to see it in person, but for some reason, it still surprises him to see Lance so relaxed, so… radiant. He’s carrying one child in his arm, and he’s mid sentence, so he actually looks pretty comical. Keith flicks to the next image, where he’s making one of his ridiculous facial expressions and making the children laugh. It’s the last image that does something to Keith’s chest, Lance’s smile and down turned eyes twisting his heart. 

Keith swallows. He flicks the image away aggressively with a swipe on his screen, and tries to get back to his book. But then his phone vibrates.

 _Lance McLain has changed your name to Asshole in your conversation._

Keith can’t help the laugh that comes out. 

He changes Lance’s name to _Loser._


	5. Chapter 5

Lance is waiting for Keith outside 138 street station, freezing his quiznaks off. The snow is falling gently, and it’s light enough that it’s leaving a layer of the stuff on the sidewalk, but it’s melting under everyone’s footsteps too quickly for it to settle properly. Lance tugs his beanie over his ears, which are determined to poke out, and takes out his phone. 

_Asshole has sent you a message._

Lance grins at the sight of the nickname on the screen. 

**Asshole** sorry I’m late, got held up at work  
**Asshole** the restaurants close by isn’t it  
**Loser** yeh it’s like right next to the station  
**Loser** hurry the fuck up its cold and I can’t feel my nose  
**Asshole** I can’t hurry, I’m literally on the train  
**Asshole** I cant force the subway to move any faster  
**Loser** uhhhHHHGHHhhhh you suck 

Lance hops from foot to foot, and is happy when he finally sees Keith emerge from the subway steps. He’s swinging a tartan scarf around his neck and shoving his hands in the pockets of his fancy coat.

“ _Fi_ nally.”

“Cool it, I’m not even late.”

The pizza place is nearby, and they make their reservation just in time. It’s cosy, nothing fancy. It’s unpretentious and generous in its portions, and Lance is enjoying pulling faces for Keith’s camera when he tries to get a good shot of Lance eating a slice. 

He bears his teeth like a lion when he tears one very stringy slice off and Keith gives a long suffering sigh. He passes his phone to Lance occasionally for him to get a shot of Keith talking to the chefs, since it’s meant to be his video and all. Lance is happy to comply, and works at various angles, filming Keith with a dramatic shot from below, then up above, then over his shoulder. 

“This isn’t film class 101,” Keith argues when Lance is zooming in on his face comically. The comment only makes Lance more determined to take the project too seriously, and tells Keith to give his role a little more feeling. 

Lance has learnt that Keith doesn’t like sharing food. So, naturally, he steals some of his toppings. He gets a smack on the hand for it the first time, but it doesn’t stop him. 

They leave the pizzeria side by side, and Lance is feeling strangely dizzy, heady from laughing. He takes Keith to some of the nearby spots which would make a good shot for the film. The sun is almost fully set and it’s casting a twinkling grey light through the snow. He recommends an artistic shot through the railings of the local basketball court, and an amazing view of Madison Avenue bridge. The last shot of the bridge includes Lance grinning with his arms held out wide, taking in the Bronx in all its glory. He’s missed it here. 

Lance goes home that night feeling warm, and it has nothing to do with the pizza in his stomach.

000

_Loser has sent you a message._

Keith has become weirdly eager to see that stupid nickname appear on his phone screen. He lives in anticipation of hearing from Loser. 

**Loser** wassup wassup wassup  
**Loser** SO I’ve been informed that your last piece rocked it :P  
**Asshole** … thank you  
**Asshole** I feel like there’s an ulterior motive here  
**Loser** I mean, it’s probably because of my beautiful face  
**Asshole** there it is  
**Asshole** you still up for coming over to central park  
**Loser** sure. Be there as soon as I finish work- meet there in an hour?  
**Asshole** sounds good

Keith waits for him at the East 90th street entrance, by the reservoir. It’s snowing and Keith is wearing a fluffy trapper hat for the occasion, even if he does feel like an idiot in it. Altea Post had sent them out to film central park after dark in the winter, specifically because some of the tracks had been decorated with fairy lights- twinkling displays wrapped up around the trees. In the snow, it’s the kind of thing that has to be documented. 

It’s actually pretty romantic. 

His phone buzzes, and he expects it to be Lance, but it’s Shiro.

**Shiro** Hey, you on your way home from work yet?

Oh shit. He’d completely forgotten to message and tell him he was going to be with Lance tonight. They’ve been out working on videos for the past four nights, and it’s become so much of a routine already that he forgets that he’s not actually out this late, usually.

**Keith** sorry, forgot to mention, im out with Lance in cp  
**Shiro** oh ok cool. Is that another of allura’s assignments  
**Keith** yeah of course  
**Keith** … why else would I be walking through central park in the snow with Lance?  
**Shiro** …  
**Keith** shiro what the fuck.  
**Shiro** keith really.  
**Keith** !!!  
**Keith** we’ve literally been sent to do this for an assignment  
**Keith** why would it mean anything  
**Shiro** im not saying it does. It just seems an awful lot like you’re enjoying these  
**Shiro** …  
**Shiro** trips with Lance.  
**Keith** you were going to call them dates, weren’t you.  
**Shiro** ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
**Keith** fuck you  
**Shiro** I didn’t expect you to take it so personally.  
**Keith** why are you like this

“Yo, Keith.”

Keith’s head snaps up and he sees Lance approach. He shoves his phone in his pocket. Lance is wearing his parka coat and blue beanie again, and knock off Timberlands. He’s grinning.

“You’re wearing a dumb hat!” he exclaims in delight.

“It’s not dumb,” he lies, tugging it onto his head. Lance bats one of the pom-poms at the end of the ear flaps like a cat, and cackles at the way Keith tries to escape.

The walk is cold, but the conversation keeps them distracted. The reservoir isn’t quite frozen over- that’s not going to happen until December at least, and it’s only the end of November. That being said, the grass is tipped with frost and the morning’s snow is sticking where people haven’t walked through it. It’s dark and the street lamps are casting an orange glow on them, making everything look weirdly sepia. 

And then they reach the part of the park which has been decorated with fairy lights, and it’s magical. Both of them find themselves lots for words as they walk with their heads tipped back, watching fresh snow begin to fall.

When he turns to see Lance looking around with a sense of wonder, eyes bright in the scattered lights, his chest constricts and he has to look away. 

He’s walking on and he realises Lance isn’t following him when he calls for him. “Keith- smile!”

Keith turns to find Lance’s phone pointed at him, and he smiles as naturally as he can, though he isn’t brilliant at trying to be casual. Instead he tries to ignore the camera and gazes up at the lights. What makes it even more magical is that the moon is out. When they had been walking through an orange glow before, now they were basking in silver light at all angles. 

He keeps walking, footsteps crunching in frost, and stops to turn and see if Lance is coming with. He isn’t- he’s watching Keith pensively. 

He sighs. “You gonna stand there all day, or…?”

Lance nods, and he’s seeming strangely reticent. At this point, he’s usually joking about something, or telling a story about how he and Hunk once did this or that. Instead he’s watching his feet as he walks. Keith nudges him with an elbow.

“You OK?”

Lance doesn’t answer immediately. “Am I any good at this, Keith? Like… am I a good journalist? I know I act confident but… is there any substance to what I’m doing?”

Keith is stunned to silence for a few moments. “What are you talking about?”

Lance shrugs. “I dunno. It’s just, I don’t really know what I’m doing. I’m just hoping my passion is coming through, you know?”

“It is,” he says almost straight away. He’s walking along close to his side, hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched around his neck. He’s watching the way his footsteps leave marks in the frost, listening to the irregular rhythm of their gaits. “You write well, you film well. You capture the heart of things. Not many people can do that.”

Lance bows his head bashfully and glances down at him, looking uncertain. Keith raises a disbelieving eyebrow, and it makes Lance laugh softly to himself. Keith counts that as a success. 

“You really must be worried if you’re asking me about this.”

Lance shrugs. “I mean. Yeah. We’re friends, right?”

This almost stops Keith in his tracks, but, thankfully, he keeps his pace, and they continue to walk through the silver, star like lights. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess we are.”

Neither one of them speaks for several minutes, merely living off the charged silence that hums between them. In the distance, there’s the sound of people laughing and chatting as they walk their dogs. There’s the crunch of fast footsteps, of someone going for a jog. Keith’s phone buzzes and he allows himself to check the screen.

_Shiro has sent you a message_  
**Shiro** you do realise all of your fans think you’re a couple, don’t you?

Keith stops breathing, shoving his phone aggressively back in his pocket and ignoring his suddenly very hot face.

“Who was that?” Lance asks, genuinely interested.

“Just Shiro, being a jerk,” he replies quickly. 

Lance laughs quietly. He’s very uncharacteristically thoughtful tonight. The watery silver light is making his expressions seem softer somehow. “I didn’t know Shiro could be a jerk.”

“Oh. He really can.” 

“Is it a family trait?”

Keith cocks his head from side to side. “Sorta. I guess you could say that. We’re not actually related. Genetically, anyway.”

Lance stops in his tracks, staring at him with his mouth open wide. He looks like a moron. Now there’s the Lance he knows.

“What?” Keith teases, looking back at him.

“Since when?”

“Uh, since birth, I think.”

“What the heck? But you’re- you’re both-?”

“We’re both Asian. That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?”

Lance freezes, then scoffs. “No. No way. I just thought…”

Keith laughs at him as he flails for an excuse. “It’s fine, not many people know.”

“So… what’s the story?”

Keith shrugs, frame stiffening defensively. “He adopted me when I was 13, and he was 18. It’s not something I like to talk about.”

Lance takes the hint and continues to walk in silence beside him. That is, until they reach the reservoir again, and Lance breaks the quiet. 

“How can you see with your fringe poking out like that?” he asks Keith, stopping him, and tutting at him. “You need to sort out that mullet, man.”

Keith rolls his eyes, but any irritation he feels dissipates as soon as Lance looks down at him and gently brushes his fringe out of his vision. 

The touch is all it takes to pin Keith to the spot for what seems like forever. His body freezes, but his insides explode with heat as Lance’s finger makes contact with his brow. It’s so small a gesture, so innocent an action, and yet it does things to Keith’s heart that he can’t explain, makes his stomach flip. He’s skin prickles with warmth, and he’s forgotten how to breathe. 

He hopes it doesn’t show on his face. Then again, he can blame any blush on the cold. 

Lance has the ghost of a smile on his lips, and his hand lingers by his face longer than is necessary. And yet, as much as the moment seems to last forever, it’s over too soon, and Lance steps back quickly. 

“Emo hair,” he muses. “Did anyone tell you that MCR broke up?”

And then Lance is back to smirking and gloating and taunting him. It takes far too long for Keith to bounce back. He walks Lance to the subway station, and says goodbye with a feeling that no words would ever be enough. 

He gets back to the flat and Shiro greets him in the living room.

“How was it?” he asks with a not so innocent smile.

Keith doesn’t reply, only standing by the door in his coat, making no move to take his shoes or hat or scarf off, or anything. He blinks at the wall. 

“Keith?” Shiro asks hesitantly.

Keith looks at him for a moment, before wandering weakly to his room. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

He considers messaging hastalalater about it. He thinks about going back to talk to Shiro. Instead, he lies on his bed, still wearing his coat and shoes, and contemplates life. 

“Fuck.”

000

 

Lance doesn’t think too hard about their romantic walk through central park. Even if he knows he’ll remember it for the rest of his life. 

He’s leaving the shop at 4pm, an hour earlier than usual, so he can make it to Time’s Square’s Disney store in good time before it closes. It’s the first of December, so it’s a big day for the shop, and Allura has recommended Holt’s resident child write an article on it, with photographs. It’s his first proper written piece, and he’s determined to get it right. 

He supposes it wasn’t necessary to invite Keith along, but it feels wrong not to by this point. Especially since fans are enjoying their dynamic.

And he is, too.

Lance is about to leave the shop, zipping up his parka, when Hunk calls him. 

“Yo, when you getting back tonight?”

“Uh, I dunno. Maybe 7:30?”

“Cool, I’ll make dinner for 8. Keith gonna join us?”

Pidge emerges from the staff kitchen, watching Lance for his reaction. Both they and Hunk are looking at him expectantly.

“I could… invite him… if you like?”

“Yeah, I haven’t seen the dude in a while, it’ll be nice to hang out,” Hunk says and does a convincing job of being innocent. 

Pidge, on the other hand. “You liiiiike him.” 

“What? What are you-? No. We’re just friends. Barely even that.”

“Just two bros, going on dates every night for a week, in a totally heterosexual way,” Pidge nods.

“Exactly. Wait, no!” Lance exclaims, before sighing dramatically. “I’m going.”

“Aw, Lance, don’t sulk, we’re just teasing,” Hunk complains.

Lance slams the door, the bell jingling happily. He power walks to the subway, and answers the buzz of his phone.

**Pidgeotto** we love you laaannnnccceeee  
**Dat Lance Boi** I hate you both  
**Hunkadunk** ☹  
**Dat Lance Boi** im sorry. I love you both. I cant even joke about it  
**Pidgeotto** ☺  <3  
**Dat Lance Boi** for reals though, I don’t like him. Im totally not interested in that way. At all  
**Hunkadunk** if you say so dude. If that’s what you think, then I believe you  
**Hunkadunk** you’ve just been really happy and dreamy recently  
**Hunkadunk** you have the goofy smile going pretty strong rn  
**Dat Lance Boi** what is this goofy smile you and Pidge keep talking about  
**Dat Lance Boi** im happy cause I have a new Friend  
**Hunkadunk** okok. Cool, bro. I’m just glad you’re happy ☺  
**Pidgeotto** …  
**Pidgeotto** sounds fake  
**Pidgeotto** I call gay  
**Dat Lance Boi** PIDGE NO leave me Alone  
**Pidgeotto** I’ve literally never seen anyone so wilfully ignorant  
**Hunkadunk** pidge bud leave him be. He’s not gonna hear it  
**Dat Lance Boi** this is not a gay thing  
**Dat Lance Boi** this is not a dating thing. We’re doing it for work  
**Dat Lance Boi** tell them hunk  
**Hunkadunk** …I don’t think I can do that dude  
**Dat Lance Boi** !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
**Dat Lance Boi** im out  
**Dat Lance Boi** I’ll see you traitors tonight  
**Hunkadunk** have fun buddy ☺  
**Pidgeotto** ;)

The journey feels like it takes forever. When he finds Keith standing outside the store, Time Square’s neon lights and buzzing crowd surrounding him, he smiles at the sight. 

“Hey,” Lance says and makes himself known. Keith looks up then away again, immediately going inside the shop. He leads them in without a word and Lance wonders if he’s done something wrong. 

It doesn’t take long, however, for Keith to start being himself again and tease him relentlessly. Lance takes pictures with a company DSLR of everything he can, plays around with a display model of the Millennium Falcon. He talks about how he always wanted to be Han Solo when he was little, grow up to be a handsome, charismatic pilot. He tells Keith that he would be Chewbacca in that scenario, and Keith says ‘fuck you’ a little too loudly considering they’re in a toy store. 

The store is getting quieter closer to closing time, anxious parents and noisy children disappearing, and Lance is grateful for it because it means he can get clearer shots. He’s taking a couple of shots on his iPhone too, because this shit is fun. 

Even if Keith is following him through the shop with a look of uncertainty and hesitance that he doesn’t recognise. He doesn’t think Keith will tell him if he asks what’s wrong. 

He tries instead to distract Keith from whatever it is that’s bothering him, and decides to make a very bad decision to provoke a smile. Lance spots the miniature castle climbing frame at the back of the shot, sees his opportunity now that the shop is getting quieter. “Watch this,” he says, as he clambers inside the pink playhouse- well, playcastle. 

“No,” Keith says, already too late, and Lance has to pour himself through a window, legs poking out. Eventually he manages to squeeze himself inside the castle, which is no doubt built for children just over 4 years, rather than a lanky 22 year old. He pokes his head through the window of the centre spire, and finds Keith’s face. That pensive, anxious wall is crumbling, and Keith is laughing- a proper belly laugh, head thrown back, arm bracing his ribs as if he might break. 

“Lance, what the fuck are you doing,” he wheezes.

“Fulfilling my role as a beautiful Disney prince.”

“I don’t know if Han Solo ever sat in a miniature pink castle,” Keith smiles. “Oh, God, I gotta take a picture of this. You look ridiculous.”

The overwhelming triumph that courses through him at making Keith relax, laugh with him, is incomparable. He doesn’t think he’s been so proud of anything before. Or so floored by someone’s smile. 

Lance has to crawl out of the window, pulling himself out on his hands, and he finishes the move with a forward roll. He stands up and brushing himself off like he’s performed some sort of cool James Bond style transition. Keith is laughing again, and Lance grins back at him.

“Come on, selfie time,” Lance announces, and he gets an amazing one of them in front of the Frozen section before Keith can complain. The picture shows a smiling Lance fingergunning a mid-laugh Keith. 

“Oh, no, delete it,” Keith says, shaking his head but still smiling, and the sight is making Lance heady. “Delete it now.”

“No way!” Lance backs away, using his long arms to his advantage and holding his phone far above Keith’s reach. “This is pure gold.”

“Give me your phone,” Keith demands, following Lance as he’s backing up, straining to reach the phone.

“No.”

“Come on you jerk.”

“What’s the problem? You look cute,” he says before thinking any better of it.

“I’m mid laugh, I look like a dork.”

“Exactly, it’s candid, it’s cool,” Lance says, backing up until he hits the low wall of a ball pit. 

Keith is suddenly up in his space, pushing him against the wall. He’s on his tip-toes, one hand braced on Lance’s shoulder as he tries to reach for the phone in his hand. The touch of his hand is enough to stop Lance’s heart.

And it all starts to suddenly make sense. 

Heat flushes to his face. He forgets how to breathe, and- he’s not entirely sure- but he thinks he makes a little whimper of surprise. It’s embarrassing and weird and-

Oh God. Hunk and Pidge are going to be completely insufferable.

He swallows, trying to wet his suddenly dry throat in vain, looking down at Keith- who’s eyes are dark and shining and he has stupidly long eye lashes for a guy. And his face is unbelievably close to Lance’s, so close that when he exhales roughly trying to reach Lance’s phone, he can feel it. Lance’s breath stutters.

“Give it.”

“No.”

And then Keith looks directly at him, and Lance is too dumbfounded by the eye contact to see what comes next.

Keith smirks. “Fine.” He prods Lance just once in the chest, and he’s toppling backwards. Waving his arms comically, he tries to catch the air, and sees the triumph in Keith’s eyes just before he yelps and falls backwards into the ball pit. 

But he grabs Keith by the shirt first, pulling him down with him.

They both collapse into the ball pit, and they’re lying there laughing for several minutes, trying to catch their breaths, and Lance can’t take his eyes off Keith.

He’s dizzy when they leave the store, and the fresh December air helps to clear his head when they walk together to the subway.

“Do I have to delete that photo? Only I actually kinda like it. It’s a good memory.”

Keith doesn’t make eye contact, but watches his feet as they walk through the drifting snow. 

“No. It’s fine, do what you want with it.”

Lance nods, and they walk in silence the rest of the way, his chest tightening uncomfortably. He doesn’t know what to do or say suddenly. Until now, he’d always known what to say with Keith. Even when they hated each other, even when they were arguing, he didn’t have to think about how to act around him. It came naturally. Now, something had changed in him, and he couldn’t see Keith the same way ever again. And he had no idea what to do next.

“So, uh,” he begins. “Hunk’s making palusami, if you wanna come by. For food.”

Keith’s shoulders seem to tense for a second, and Lance is only noticing his reactions through his periphery because he can’t manage to look at him without blushing. So he stares ahead through the dark, illuminated by Times Square lights.

“Uh, I don’t know what that is. It sounds… good… but uh… I’’ve actually got to get back. Shiro’s cooking for Allura and Coran and I said Id be there.”

Lance shrugs, puts on his best cocky expression. “Oh. Pfft. That’s fine. No worries, no problemo homie.”

“I mean… unless you want to join?”

Lance doesn’t expect this, and he’s about to say yes, when he stops himself. As much as he wants to keep hanging out with Keith right now, he thinks he actually wants to go talk to Hunk and Pidge more. He needs his friends. Because, the more he thinks about it, the more he realises his chest is about to explode and he doesn’t think he can survive any longer in Keith’s company without talking about it.

“That sounds great, but, uh, I think, on second thoughts, I should probably get back. We could… do it another night this week?”

Lance waits for Keith to reply, watching his footsteps as they walk. 

“Sure. I’ll… come by yours tomorrow? After work?”

“Yeah, we can do that… our flat is kind of awful, though… and it’s freezing cold…”

“Why did you invite me then?” Keith argues, with humour in his voice.

“I dunno-? OK? Just- look, your place would be better,” Lance retorts, giving up. 

He finds the courage to look at him when they say goodbye. 

Everything has changed.

He gets back to the flat, and shuts the door quietly behind him. He lays his forehead on the door and closes his eyes.

“Hey, buddy,” Hunk calls out. “How was it?”

He doesn’t reply and can hear Hunk come to investigate at the lack of response. Pidge emerges from their room too.

“Lance?” Pidge asks uncertainly. 

When Lance turns round to look at them, there are tears in his eyes. Hunk immediately wraps him up in a hug and Lance buries his face in his best friend’s chest. His arms dangle uselessly at his side.

“Oh, Lance,” Hunk soothes.

“I don’t like it,” he complains, voice muffled.

Pidge shuffles over awkwardly, and pats him on the back. “I don’t understand what’s happening…” they say apologetically.

“Lance is upset because he’s realised he likes Keith. And he doesn’t want to have feelings for him, because he doesn’t understand their relationship well enough. Plus Keith is cool, and Lance is a soft, squishy dork.”

Lance makes a high-pitched, muffled wail into Hunk’s chest.

Pidge makes a noise of understanding, disappears. Lance can hear them reappear again by his side.

“Would you like some Ben and Jerry’s in this trying time?”

He peels himself away from Hunk’s hug to give the pint of ice-cream a measured glance. “Yes,” he decides, takes it from Pidge, and collapses on the sofa. Pidge curls up next to him, nestling their head under his arm. Hunk throws an arm around his shoulders.

“Tell us what happened,” Hunk says.

So he does, in between mouthfuls- sometimes lamenting mid chew. He doesn’t miss any of it out. He goes through all of their trips- dates- and points out all the moments where Keith had said something meaningful, had looked at him warmly. All the moments that, in retrospect, were Lance flirting with him. When he’s done, his chest hurts a little less, but he’s still light-headed and warm in the face.

Pidge whistles. “Wow. You got it bad, my friend.”

Lance sniffs. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I do.” 

000

**hastalalater** what do you do when you realise you’re falling for someone you’re technically meant to hate?

Keith stares at the message in the dark. He’s lying in bed, his bright phone screen lighting up his face. He wishes he knew how to answer. Because, right in that moment, all he can think is, I dunno, ‘cause same. 

He decides to go with what he’s thinking, albeit, rephrasing it.

**everythingisconnected** I don’t know. If you find the answer, please tell me.  
**hastalalater** so we’re both screwed  
**everythingisconnected** looks like.

The coincidental nature of all of this does cross his mind. But he disregards it almost instantly.

Especially since he’s suddenly being distracted by a flurry of Facebook notifications.

The first thing he attends to is Lance’s message. 

**Loser** oh my god have you seen how many likes and shares our chilli eating contest vid has got?????  
**Asshole** no  
**Asshole** gimme a sec

He finds the video in question on Facebook, and it’s got 3.2k views in a matter of hours. Keith’s eyes widen when he sees the figures. The sound isn’t on, but he can see he and Lance sitting side by side in the latest restaurant they were reviewing, arguing with each other about who could eat more chillies. 

Keith won. Even if he does almost throw up on the last one. 

The comment section is blowing up with people shipping them- laughing about their competitive natures like they know them. It’s weird and Keith has to scroll away.

**Asshole** holy fuck  
**Loser** yeah  
**Asshole** I don’t know what to do with this information  
**Loser** really? Cause I do  
**Asshole** ?  
**Loser** Rematch ;)  
**Asshole** I won fair and square. Deal with it  
**Loser** Hmmmmmm no

Keith smiles and shakes his head to himself. He’s about to shut his phone off when he gets another message from Lance.

**Loser** also  
**Loser** is it ok if I change my profile picture to that selfie? Only I know you said you didn’t mind what I do with it but  
**Loser** yeh  
**Asshole** sure. I don’t care

Keith definitely cares. It sends his stomach into fits of butterflies. 

When he checks the rest of his notifications, he finds they’re all Altea posts that he’s been tagged in. The next one that pops up, he’s interested in, though- because it’s Lance updating his profile picture and tagging him in it. Hunk and Pidge immediately like it. Seconds later, Shiro hearts it.

Shiro makes an obnoxiously loud ‘d’awwwww!’ through the wall, and Keith growls to himself. 

He goes to sleep that night thinking of Lance’s laugh.


	6. Chapter 6

The bookshop article is finally published. 

Thanks to Lance’s recent appearance in his videos, his fan-base has grown and his publicity has skyrocketed. It’s got to the point where they’ve both had to make celebrity Facebook profiles, and have those pages tagged instead of their personal ones. Keith and Lance are becoming a social media thing, and he’s got at least a thousand new followers. It’s completely crazy, and Keith doesn’t know what to do with all the attention. Lance, meanwhile, is using it to his advantage, updating his Twitter every day with selfies and stupid puns. People are lapping it up. 

So when Keith publishes the bookshop article, tagging Lance in it as one of the booksellers- well, needless to say, the shop hasn’t seen so much business in years. 

Keith makes sure to pop by when he can, writing up assignments at his designated table and drinking coffee. Occasionally, someone comes in and recognises Keith or Lance or both, and they ask for a selfie. It’s surreal. Meanwhile, Pidge is run off their feet but happier than ever, and Hunk is slowly gaining confidence in his baking skills as all of his food is selling like literal hot cakes. 

He figures that since Matt is stuck on the other side of the planet for whatever reason, there won’t be any major celebrations until he gets back. Keith’s wrong. 

He’s curled up under a blanket on the sofa with Shrek playing in the background when he gets the message.

_Pidge Holt added you to: Buckle up motherfuckers it’s Lance’s birthday_  
 **Pidge** hey losers! So since Keith has produced that wonderful piece of journalistic magic, as you know, our shop has been doing really well. We’re well above where we’d usually be this time of the year, income wise, and it’s all thanks to you Altea babes. On top of that, it’s Lance’s birthday on Saturday (which I’m guessing you all already know because he takes the matter VERY seriously and reminds everyone on a regular basis)  
 **Pidge** and so in celebration of these things, we’re throwing a surprise party on his behalf, in the shop, Friday night. Bring booze.   
**Hunk** it’s gonna be awesome you guys. We’re gonna show you Altea angels a good time.  <3  
 **Shiro** this is a great idea, and I’m glad the article did the job! Although pidge… you’re not 21 yet. Should you really be drinking? :/  
 **Hunk** aw shiro you say it like they’ve not used Matt’s fake ID to buy beer already   
**Shiro** Pidge!! You haven’t, have you?  
 **Pidge** Yes?   
**Pidge** Look I’m 19, I’m an adult, and im more mature than lance and keith put together  
 **Pidge** (heheh)  
 **Pidge** I wont do anything stupid, ok, dad?  
 **Shiro** >:(  
 **Allura** oh dear you’ve upset shiro! XD we trust you Pidgelet, don’t worry.  
 **Allura** also very excited for this. How old will Lance be?  
 **Coran** this sounds most exciting! Ill bring some of my homemade ale for the occasion. Nectar of the gods  
 **Shiro** oh god Coran please don’t… last time we drank that…  
 **Hunk** oh my god. That sounds scary and amazing  
 **Pidge** count me the fuck in Coran  
 **Hunk** also, Lance is turning 23  
 **Pidge** keith are you coming?  
 **Coran** I enjoy the fact that Keith is reading these messages without responding. Watching, waiting.   
**Hunk** lurking in the shadows  
 **Shiro** he’s not, he’s next door watching Shrek  
 **Pidge** oH MY god why is that so funny to me  
 **Hunk** the idea of Keith watching Shrek is just… its screwing with my head man  
 **Allura** Shrek is an amazing film :O   
**Coran** that it is  
 **Hunk** you ever gonna respond buddy or are ya just gonna watch Shrek and spy on us  
 **Pidge** Keith  
 **Hunk** Keith  
 **Shiro** Keith  
 **Allura** Keith  
 **Coran** Keith  
 **Pidge** KEITH KEITH KEITH KEITH KEITH  
 **Keith** jesus ok hello everyone  
 **Pidge** haha! He lives  
 **Hunk** “He’s!! ALIVE!!!!”

Keith hears Shiro chuckle in his room. 

“You’re an asshole!” Keith shouts.

“Love you too, little bro!” Shiro responds.

**Pidge** you gonna come Saturday then  
 **Allura** im sure he will. The two of them are inseparable.   
**Coran** you might even call them an iconic duo.  
 **Hunk** I’m now officially calling them the iconic duo  
 **Keith** yes I can come, but only if I can leave this conversation  
 **Pidge** nooo stay  
 **Keith** fine. Can I remove YOU from the conversation?  
 **Hunk** Pidge is forcibly removed from the chat  
 **Shiro** behave keith  
 **Keith** you behave

He doesn’t have time to be teased mercilessly. He puts his phone of silent and ignores the way his phone continues to light up with messages. 

**Hunk** oh no he’s gone offline!  
 **Hunk** keithhhh we’re sorry  
 **Pidge** ☹ ☹ ☹  
 **Coran** please forgive us, keith! 

He ignores his screen and continues to watch Shrek, all the while trying to figure out what exactly to get Lance for his birthday. Friday night is only a few days away and anticipation settles unpleasantly on him. Unpleasantly, not because of the company- no, he’s almost desperate to see Lance again. Rather, because he knows that, sooner or later, he’s going to have to face what these feelings are and confront them. He’s going to have to decide: push them down and continue on as friends, or do something about them and risk losing one of the only friends he’s ever had.

Neither seem particularly appealing.

He groans to himself and hides under the blanket as if to hide from the unfairness of life.

000

Keith and Shiro are on the subway. The Cloud connection is pretty terrible, but it’s good enough for him to read his conversation with hastalalater. His eyes keep going back to their conversation

**hastalalater** so we’re both screwed  
 **everythingisconnected** looks like.

Shiro is pointedly looking away from him, so that it won’t look like he’s snooping. Keith trusts him more than that, but Shiro has always been thoughtful that way. The train carriage rattles and sways as they plummet through New York’s underbelly.

**everythingisconnected** what do you do if you’re falling for a friend but you don’t want to ruin it. Do you take the chance? Or do you try to forget and hope it wont kill you?

Hastalalater isn’t responding. Keith isn’t sure he needs him to, anyway. Typing it out, actually articulating his options has let him make his decision. 

000

Keith’s never been to a surprise birthday party before, so when he sees Lance come through the door and literally scream in fear as the dark bookshop suddenly explodes with noise, it leaves Keith in near hysterics. The look of terror and confusion in his face isn’t even the best part; it’s the way he jumps back and puts up some ridiculous defensive position that looks like a poor attempt at karate. 

“What the heck?!” Lance exclaims

Keith is wiping a tear away, trying to catch his breath, as Hunk looks down at him in awe. 

“Buddy, it’s a surprise party!” Hunk explains patiently.

“But I thought we were celebrating the article next week?” he asks, looking between Coran, Allura, Pidge, Shiro and Keith with a baffled smile.

“Are you serious, Lance?” Pidge asks, who’s also struggling to control their giggles. 

“Only you would misinterpret a surprise birthday party,” Keith says.

Lance’s eyes widen. “You’re here for me?”

The sincerity of it makes Keith’s heart break a little. Thankfully, Shiro jumps in before he can say anything stupid. “Of course! You’re our friend, and its your birthday! This is what happens in those situations.”

“It just happens to coincide with the article getting published,” Pidge agrees. “Besides, you always said you wanted a surprise birthday party- honestly, I kinda thought you’d be expecting it.”

“Since, you know, you asked for a surprise party. Which takes the surprise out of it,” Hunk says, looking more and more confused as he talks. 

Lance looks up at Hunk and launches himself at him, squeezing him into a tight hug. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone that surprised before,” Allura says through a laugh. “You looked like you were about to try and defend yourself against a band of bookshop thieves.”

“I was! Let me tell you, if you were thieves, you’d be on the floor by now. Wham! Pam!” Lance throws some unimpressive ‘martial arts’ moves, and Keith is rolling his eyes before he can stop himself. 

“Well I’m glad you didn’t attack us,” Coran says reasonably. “Otherwise I would have had to take you out.”

Shiro snorts and slaps him on the back. “Ok, buddy.”

Pidge raises their eyebrows. “You say it like you would. I’m not saying you couldn’t, but you definitely wouldn’t. You’re a giant softie.”

“He’s a black belt in Aikido,” Keith says. “Don’t fuck with him.”

Allura looks between Keith and Shiro with sparkling eyes, looking absolutely delighted. Shiro shrugs bashfully. “Oh my god!” she cries. “That is amazing, Shiro!”

“Oh, I reckon Lance and I could take you. Two on one,” Coran says, raising his fists and wiggling his moustache comically. Shiro just laughs, and the topic changes organically as Lance starts chatting to everyone, and people give him their gifts. Lance is positively glowing, his smile hasn’t shifted since the moment he realised why they were all there. Pidge has bought him a nerf gun set- three of them, so they can compete in their inappropriately sized flat. Lance asserts that he’s actually a decent shot, and Keith doesn’t believe him until Hunk nods with wide, haunted eyes.

“Dude. I will never forget the bruise you gave me when we went paintballing. That thing didn’t fade for, like, weeks.”

“Right on your ass!” Lance cackled. “Best day of my life.”

Coran and Allura have got Lance a flight voucher, and he looks like he’s about to pass out when he opens the envelope. His face has gone red and he looks a little like he’s stopped breathing. Just when Keith affectionately wonders whether he’s actually lost for words, he starts gushing thank yous and you shouldn’t haves and oh my god this is too muches. He’s watching Shiro give his present- a photo frame to commemorate one of the pictures he takes when he finally goes abroad- when Hunk sidles over and passes Keith a beer. 

“Is he going to be OK?” Keith asks as Lance looks like he’s about to explode with happiness and gratitude. 

“Yeah,” Hunk says warmly. “He’s just the oldest from a big family. He’s not used to the attention.”

Keith considers this as Lance looks between his friends disbelievingly. He’s always been loud and playful, in some way drawing everyone’s attention to him. Now that that attention’s being given unasked, Lance doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself. He’s never seen him so bashful before, like he’s not sure how to handle the spotlight. That he’s the oldest of a large family makes a lot of sense.

“This was a good idea.” Keith looks up at Hunk with as encouraging a smile as he can manage, and Hunk responds with an open grin. The guy is the most approachable, huggable person Keith’s ever freaking met- and he’s not a huggy guy.

“Yeah, well. Wait until he starts drinking, then you might wanna retract that statement,” he says. Keith isn’t sure how serious he’s being, and Hunk seems to realise this when he adds, “He’s pretty much the most affectionate drunk on the planet. He will hug you. He will tell you he loves you. Just, you know, fair warning.”

Hunk looks at him briefly with a far too knowing expression, so Keith looks away. 

He’s grateful for the warning.

That’s when Lance comes over to say hi to him, and Keith remembers that he actually has a present for him too. Hunk disappears, saying he’s gonna put some ‘sick beats’ on, leaving the two alone. Keith hands over the gift over to Lance wordlessly, leaning against the coffee table behind him, hands subconsciously gripping the edge.

Lance looks down at it in his hands reverently, then looks back with a cocked eyebrow. “A book? It feels like a book.”

“I didn’t get you a book, dumbass. You’re a bookseller, how shit a present would that be?” Keith mutters. 

“Hey, I’m not one to complain when someone gives me a present,” he says reasonably, and tears the paper apart without hesitation. The easy smile on his face disappears as looks down at the object in his hands. For along moment, Keith thinks he’s got it wrong.

“It’s a diary,” he explains, and Lance looks down at it with an expression that’s so frustratingly unreadable, it’s killing him. “I know you’re favourite colour’s blue, and… I know that any travel writer needs a diary. So.” He spreads out his palms to gesture at the diary, through a lack of words.

He doesn’t realise he’s chewing his lip in concern until Lance looks up and his eyes go directly to his lips. He shifts under his gaze, before Lance looks back down at the diary, flicking through the pages and stroking the cover.

“It’s soft.”

“It’s… moleskin?” He says. “You know. Moleskin.”

“I know,” Lance says quietly, and then he’s looking back up at him. “Thank you.”

“You… like it?” 

“I…” Lance smiles. “I’ve never had a diary before. Growing up with siblings… it wasn’t worth the risk,” he adds with a quiet laugh. “How did you remember blue was my favourite colour?”

Keith thinks back. He’d told him when they’d gone to a Christmas lights parade in the city. Lance had commented on how the blue ones were his favourites. It was a passing comment, and yet Keith had somehow committed it to memory.

He was truly fucked.

Instead of letting it on, he shrugs. “Must’ve mentioned it at some point.” They smile, holding each other’s gaze for a moment, before Keith remembers, “Oh, wait- I got you a pen, too. Nothing fancy, but… it made sense. Since, you know, I’d already got you a travel diary. Can’t write notes without one.”

He fishes out the parker pen from his bag, which was still in its box. Lance takes it from his hands carefully, opening the box and finding the simple, silver fountain pen. 

“You need cartridges for it. It’s kind of an old fashioned way of doing things. You’ll probably use your phone for most of your research anyway, but-”

“No,” Lance interrupts. He looks up at him with bright, sincere eyes. “It’s perfect.” 

Before Keith can contemplate the sight any further, Lance is crashing into him, pulling him into an unnecessarily tight hug. Keith kinds himself reciprocating, hands on the man’s back, and he’s overcome by his warmth and his smell. When Keith brings the hug to an end- he can’t cope with the intimacy of it, especially not in front of everyone else- Keith swears there’s a blush to Lance’s cheeks. Then again, there very often is. 

Music has been playing, and he didn’t realise till now. But he can no longer ignore Coran voguing in the background, and he watches the action in amazement over Lance’s shoulder- who then takes notice. He joins in and it suddenly becomes a full on voguing contest. 

Drinks start to flow, Pidge is arguing with Shiro over the legalities of minors drinking amongst adults, and Allura and Lance are dancing badly to Brimful of Asha. He has another beer in his hand (where did that come from?), it’s dark outside, and the bookshop feels strange in this setting. The coffee and weak, winter light has been replaced by dancing and alcohol, by street lights and warm bodies, and it’s made strangely more intimate by the fact that it’s a familiar setting. This shop is like a second home to him, he thinks with a sense of surprise and bafflement, and he takes out his phone to take a picture of Allura and Lance’s terrible dance off. 

Even when she’s messing around, Allura is positively gorgeous and radiant, making dorky look adorable rather than embarrassing. As for Lance- well, dork is his middle name, and he wears it well. Well enough to put a tight grip on Keith’s heart as he watches him do a poor imitation of the robot.

Pidge changes the song on his phone, which they’ve connected to the shop’s little used speakers, and Keith recognises the opening notes of Despacito.

“This is a shout out to my buddy Lance, who knows all the lyrics to this shitty song,” Pidge calls out. 

Lance cocks his hip and crosses his arms, looking mildly offended. “Uh, Pidge, just because I speak Spanish, doesn’t mean I- _Sí, sabes que ya llevo un rato mirándote_ ,” he sings, interrupting himself.

“Oh my God,” Keith says disbelievingly. 

“Yaaaaaas!” Hunk exclaims.

“He’s a living meme,” Pidge explains to Keith as they join his side by the till. “Literally, I’ve never heard him speak Spanish in another other situation than when this song comes on. He absolutely defies stereotypes, until Despacito is in question.”

It occurs to Keith that he hasn’t heard Lance speak Spanish either, and he’s lost for words as Lance shows that he does, in fact, know literally every single word of the song. When the beat drops he starts to dance, moving his hips and singing along, and Hunk jumps in with the second verse. It’s only a matter of time before everyone is dancing, apart from Keith and Pidge, who are watching with amusement. 

He’s quiet happy where he is, watching Lance dance exaggeratedly to Descpacito, at one point bending back and beginning to limbo. That is, until Hips Don’t Lie comes on, purely by chance, and Lance and Hunk scream at each other in delight. 

“Dude!”

“Bro!”

“Oh God,” Pidge laughs, hiding behind a hand. “This is their song. They have a whole dance routine and everything.”

“A dance routine?” Keith asks, dumbfounded, and, yes, they do have one, because the two of them have started going through a very simplistic routine side by side, which involves a lot of hip shaking and not much else. “How old are they?”

“Amazingly, older than you,” Pidge replies. 

He polishes off his third beer, and is bizarrely transfixed by Lance’s dancing. As ridiculous as his dancing is, being insanely exaggerated, there is something… hypnotising about how languid he is when he moves. He shoots the occasional cocked eyebrow and wink at Allura, as per habit, but mostly he looks happy and relaxed, and he seems to be enjoying himself so much as he swerves to the music that it leaves Keith’s mouth a little dry. Considering how stupidly, comically exaggerated the sexy dancing is, and how cheesy the music is, Lance is making it _actually_ sexy. Then again, part of Keith isn’t surprised; it’s his dorkiness that makes him flustered.

The thought process is broken by Shiro coming over, and at first Keith is relieved. That is until, much to his own horror, Shiro drags him into the cleared shop floor and starts dad dancing. Allura has the uncontrollable giggles as Shiro does his best to embarrass Keith. It’s working. What makes it worse is the next song that comes up, because Shiro looks at him like it’s _his_ fucking birthday.

“Yes!”

“No-”

“Oh come on, tell me you remember, you must remember,” he coaxes, and then he’s dancing a routine that he thought he’d completely forgotten.

“I remember, I’m just not joining you,” Keith says, but he cant help laughing. The alcohol is going to his head, but its pleasant.

“What?! You have a dance routine? You and _Keith_?!” Lance exclaims, a grin so wide that it looks like it can barely fit on his face. 

“Oh yeah, we do,” Shiro laughs. “Came up with it when we were in high school, right?”

“I was thirteen years old!” Keith cries out in his defence, and Lance is breaking into fits of laughter. 

“This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Pidge says from behind him. 

“Come _on_ ,” Shiro says, and Keith thinks that maybe its worth it just to relive it all. Because those evenings when he went over to Shiro’s and danced to the radio, when Love Generation was number one, are some of his most cherished memories. His friendship with Shiro was the silver lining in a very dark sky. So he starts dancing through the routine which is an embarrassing mixture of bad line dancing and the Macarena, and the whole room explodes into applause.

The time in between that dance and his fifth drink disappears from his memory. This is mostly due to the ‘nunvil’ that Coran has brought with him. Lance pours him a shot, and the whole group tip it back in unison. Keith almost spits it out all over Hunk. Lance looks like he’s going to throw up.

“It takes like hot dog water and feet,” he wheezes. 

Keith kinda agrees. Not that it stops him from having another one when Lance pours them both another, like it’s a fucking contest. Thankfully, Shiro confiscates the stuff before it can get too messy, because holy shit is it strong, and Keith finds himself getting far too invested when he starts dancing to Bruno Mars with Hunk. When the Macarena comes on, it’s all down hill from there (or up hill, depending on how you look at it). Coran and Lance are absolutely going for it, more so than Keith has ever seen anyone dance to the Macarena. 

Time flies, somehow more alcohol is consumed, Allura and Shiro are getting cosy at one of the coffee tables, and everyone else is dancing. Mr Brightside gets everyone _screaming_ the lyrics, and Keith doesn’t realise he’s been avoiding Lance this whole evening until Lance eventually takes him by the hand and pulls him over to dance with him. He doesn’t want to think about dancing with him, about being drunk and reckless with him, because he knows he’ll do something stupid, but Lance doesn’t know what he’s thinking- of course he doesn’t- and he puts an arm around Keith’s shoulders, and then they’re both jumping up and down screaming the lyrics to Mr Brightside and Keith can’t stop grinning.

It’s half past midnight, and Keith can’t believe it, and Lance is saying they should go out. Shiro orders Pidge to stay, and Allura is talking about taking them to a new club that’s opened up only a few blocks down. Keith hasn’t heard of it, but Lance and Hunk have and are super excited about the prospect of Allura getting them to the front of the queue.

He watches Lance pull Hunk aside, dragging him into the staff kitchen with a look of apprehension, and he can’t help but wonder what’s going through the guy’s head, what they’re whispering about. He, Allura and Shiro give them a moment to sort themselves out and talk about whatever secret thing they’re discussing, before screaming at them to hurry the hell up because the Uber is waiting. They clamber into the cab, and Keith is suddenly aware of just how drunk he is because oh my God, he should not be giggling so much at Shiro, who can’t get find his seat belt. In that moment, it’s the funniest thing in the world, and Lance’s arm around his shoulders is the nicest thing imaginable. Keith realises that Lance is definitely an affectionate drunk, and that he has absolutely no problem with that right now. 

The cab drive is short and bumpy (or maybe it isn’t. Maybe he’s just drunk and can’t sit up straight) and Allura won’t let them give her any change for the cab. Shiro tries to argue, but he’s not getting anywhere. Besides, Hunk, Keith and Lance are halfway to the queue and they need Allura to get them in. 

The guards take one look at Allura and let them all through. It’s amazing, and Lance is wooping and high-fiving the bouncers. Hunk high fives them on his way in, too, and Keith is terrified they’re going to get chucked out for acting too drunk, so he gives them an apologetic shrug. Shiro shakes their hands because he’s 300 years old. 

It’s a nice club. A _nice_ club. Because it’s not filled with drunk assholes- it’s only lightly sprinkled with them. There’s a bar beyond the cloakroom, so they dump their coats and make a beeline. Allura immediately manages to wave down a barman, flashing them a beautiful smile, and then there’s a line of drinks in front of them- Keith hasn’t even ordered, they’ve done that cool, hipster thing of guessing their drink. He takes a sip. Some sort of gin cocktail, he reckons, but he’s not certain.

Shiro gives Allura a reprimanding look, but she’s just grinning wildly at him, and they all knock back their drinks or take them to the dance floor.

By this point his self-restraint and better judgement is far beyond his reach, so when All the Small Things comes on, he grabs Lance by the arm without warning and drags him to the dance floor. And before he knows it, the five of them are dancing to Blink 182.

Keith remembers dancing shamelessly. It’s not something he’s done in a while, and it’s amazing to feel that relaxed- to have friends that he’s so comfortable with that he can be a total dork. He and Shiro are screaming the lyrics to Shut Up and Dance With Me, and at one point Hunk spins him and almost throws him into a group of unsuspecting partyers, and it leaves Lance weeping with laughter. At one point, a photographer comes by, and Lance drags them all into a group photo. 

Keith really hopes he isn’t blinking in it. He supposes he’ll have to wait and see until the morning when it gets posted on Facebook. Fuck.

Ed Sheeran starts playing and Shiro and Allura are getting too cosy for it not to be weird, so they sidle off and leave them to it. The three of them are having a great time, and Keith is doing a very good job of not being weird around Lance, despite the fact that he’s dancing to Shape Of You and Keith feels a little too hot under the collar for that. At least, he was doing fine, until some cute girl starts dancing with Hunk. She’s bashful and sweet, but she’s built like an Amazonian warrior, and Hunk’s totally into it, so Lance shrugs at Keith and they leave him to it too. 

It’s getting a little too flirty for him. He really doesn’t want to fuck up what they have going because Ed Sheeran’s playing and he’s horny.

So he makes the universal gesture of ‘want a drink?’ and Lance actually looks a little relieved as they sidle off to the bar. It’s very swanky- people are making custom drinks and they service is amazing. So when Keith orders to tequila shots, he almost feels bad for not asking for something a little more skilled. He puts the cash down and Lance grabs his arm. It sends chills up him.

“What are you doing? I can pay for mine!”

“It’s your birthday, are you kidding?” He slides a shot over to Lance.

“Tequilaaaaaaa,” Lance exclaims happily, taking a slice of lime and sprinkling salt on his hand. 

“Salt, tequila, lime, right?”

“No- tequila, salt, lime.”

“No- it’s, it’s definitely salt tequila lime,” Keith argues.

“Tequila salt lime!”

“Salt tequila lime!” 

“Oh fuck it.” Lance knocks back the tequila, licks the salt off his hand, and bits the lie. He winces and grimaces, eyes crossing and tongue sticking out.

Keith watches and laughs.

“You didn’t do it!”

“You didn’t give me any warning, I thought we were going to count down and do it together!”

“Just do it!” Lance demands, and Keith does, salt first. He shakes his head and winces. 

“See, it’s gross if you do it salt first!” 

“You should have seen _your_ face!”

“Whatever, come on,” Lance laughs, and he takes him by the hand and drags him back to the dance floor. Titanium is playing (thank god this club isn’t too cool for cheesy music) and the others are still coupled off. Hunk is being a veritable gentleman, however, spinning the girl around like they’re at prom. It’s cute, but Keith is too distracted by the fact that he and Lance are together on the crammed dance floor, music thumping through him, alcohol telling him he should make a move, _make a move, don’t be scared, he likes you too._

But he’s terrified of rejection even now, even with Lance looking down at him like he’s not seen him in years, like he’s found the answers to life’s questions, and Keith thinks that he can’t possibly like him back… can he?

And the dance floor is getting more and more crowded, and someone shoves Lance out of the way hard enough that he crashes into Keith and they’re forced close together, and then they’re dancing, and Keith can’t take his eyes off him, and Lance is biting his bottom lip. 

_Fuck it._

He closes the distance between them, and he puts a hand on his arm, and he’s going to do it. He’s really going to make a move, he’s going to kiss him, because Lance won’t stop looking at his lips-

There’s commotion happening in the corner of his eye that he’s studiously ignoring, until he can’t, because people are crashing into them and they’re forced apart again. When he turns to look at what’s going on, any annoyance disappearance when he sees Hunk holding a hand up to a split lip, and a seriously fucking angry looking dude being held back by the girl Hunk was dancing with. 

“Get your hands off my fucking sister, asshole!” he’s screaming, and the girl is telling him to calm down, they were only dancing.

Hunk looks like he’s about to cry. Lance and Keith don’t even think about it, they’re immediately at his side. 

“What the hell are you doing? What’s going on?” Keith demands, stepping in front of Hunk whilst Lance talks to him. 

“He’s rubbing up against my sister, that’s what’s going on!”

He’s big. He’s bigger than she is, which is saying something. 

“Rax, please! I don’t need your permission!”

“Shay, what are you even doing here? You’re meant to be at home!” He takes her by the hand and drags her away, but not before she finds Keith, gives him a card, and flicks her gaze over to Hunk with a secretive smile.

It’s her business card. Balmera Catering. And it has her contact details. 

“What the hell was his problem?” Lance demands, and he looks like he’s about to follow him and give him a piece of his mind, but thankfully Shiro and Allura are back and saying that it’s probably about time they head home- especially with Hunk’s split lip.

Poor Hunk. He looks pale and confused, and he’s pressing an icepack that a bouncer has given him to his face. 

When Keith passes him the girl’s business card, he struggles through a smile- even if it must be painful. 

“Shay,” he says quietly to himself. 

They crawl into a taxi and drop Lance and Hunk at their flat. Keith finds himself getting out and walking them to the door. He doesn’t know why. 

Lance shows Hunk through the apartment building entrance. 

“Hey, uh, Lance,” Keith stumbles over his words, thrusts his hands into his arm pits because its fucking freezing and he has no gloves. “I know it didn’t end the way it should’ve, but, I hope you had a good birthday.”

He smiles at him and Lance hovers in the entrance, rubs the back of his neck bashfully. “Yeah. It was amazing. Best birthday ever.”

They stand there and look at each other, and Keith doesn’t know what Lance is thinking about, but he knows that he’s thinking about that almost kiss on the dance floor. 

“Come to the Christmas market with me on Sunday?” Lance asks suddenly. It takes a moment for Keith to translate, because he speaks so quickly and his words are slurred. 

“Uh. Yeah- that sounds fun.” He turns on his heel, looking at Lance over his shoulder. The motion almost sets him off balance and falling into a trashcan, and Lance bursts out laughing. Keith groans and rubs his face.

“Go drink some water,” Lance advises, and he smiles at him one more time before closing the door behind him. 

When he falls into the taxi, Shiro nudges him with his elbow and waggles his eyebrows. 

Allura waggles her eyebrows too.

“Shut the fuck up,” he complains, and Allura and Shiro burst into fits of triumphant laughter. They drop Allura off at her flat, before heading back to theirs. Keith decides it’s a good time to question Shiro about what happened between him and Allura, but he’s being irritatingly tight-lipped about it.

When he gets home, he doesn’t drink any water, he’s too tired. He collapses onto his bed and passes out immediately- he doesn’t even take his shoes off. He doesn’t stay awake long enough to get the spins. He’s out like a light.

He regrets it the next morning of course. 

But when he wakes up with a shitty smoothie by his bedside, and a notification from Lance, he feels a little better. Because as much as he hates Shiro’s health smoothies, they do actually help with hangovers, and they’re a reminder that Shiro loves him. 

As for the notification- well. It’s last night’s photos that he’s been tagged in.

The one that gets him is one that Hunk took of him and Lance dancing and singing badly to Take On Me. Lance is playing air-keyboard, and Keith is playing air-guitar. Coran is whooping in the background, cheering them on. Pidge is experiencing some lens flair in their glasses that makes them look terrifying, like they’ve been summoned form hell. Lance is getting really into it, as hilarious and expressive as ever. And Keith?

Well, Keith doesn’t think he’s ever seen himself look so happy, enjoy himself so much. 

He looks at that photo for a while- until he runs to go throw up. 

He remembers that night for the rest of his life.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ... I'm afraid the angst begins here.

Lance is waiting for Keith beneath the giant Christmas tree at Bryant Park. 

He’s still not entirely sure he can believe the other night really happened. Dancing to Despacito with Keith. Singing to Mr Brightside with Keith. Laughing with his friends- with Keith. 

And the photos. Oh god, the photos. They are some of the most amazing images to have ever graced the internet. In fact, he has one as his lock screen; a professional club photo of the five of them, crushed together to fit into the frame. Lance grinning wildly (and he thinks he looks pretty cute), Hunk mirroring Lance’s smile, Shiro looking young and relaxed, Allura out-shining all of them. Except, in Lance’s eyes, for Keith, who gracing the camera with a rare, laid back smile. The image makes his heart sing. 

The snow is falling gently and Lance swears the temperature is dropping as he waits. He remembers Hunk’s advice. “ _It’s the perfect excuse to get snuggled up next to him._ ” It really is, and he’s hopeful that he’ll have the courage to make a move. 

He knows he has to do something, even if he is frightened of what’ll happen, even if he is convinced that this is all in his head. Because that night out, he was sure Keith was about to kiss him. God, he wishes he just knew what Keith was thinking, so he didn’t have to doubt himself at every turn.

At least Pidge and Hunk have been amazing wingmen. Except for the fact that when they’re not being smooth and secretive, they’re teasing Lance mercilessly. They understand how freaked out Lance is about having feelings for Keith; they know about his terrible exes- specifically Nyma- and how nervous he is about falling for someone again. But somehow that makes the jokes more appreciated; it’s a reminder that it’s OK to have feelings for someone, it’s nothing major or hugely important. 

Pidge, however, is determined take it one step further to embarrass Lance at every turn in regards to Keith. The fact that Keith is called Asshole on his phone absolutely delighted them when they first found out- Pidge had found Lance’s phone buzzing from messages, and had shouted across a shop-full of customers, “Lance, your Asshole’s calling!”

Yeah, he’s not sure he’s forgiven them for that little stunt.

He’s internally cringing about it when he spots Keith coming out of the subway.

The moment he sees him approach, searching through the crowd for Lance, all that hypothetical courage disappears, and is replaced by butterflies and blushes. He’s wearing that dumb hat again. His cheeks are already reddening from the cold. His eyes finally settle on Lance, a gentle smile creeps up on him brightening his eyes. 

Lance thinks he falls in love with him there and then. 

Keith makes his way through the crowd over to Lance, beneath the Christmas tree. He looks over his head, gaze following the top of the tree and examining the fair lights. 

“I’ve never been to this market before.”

“It’s meant to be good,” Lance says, clumsily trying to remember how to speak. It’s been so easy to talk with Keith, up until he realised he had feelings for him. “Allura and I thought it would be fun to review, so…”

That’s when two strangers come over, the guy’s gloved hands clasped excitedly in front of his face, the girl wide eyed and speechless. 

“Oh my God. Can I get a selfie with you guys?” the guy asks, and Lance is never going to get used to this. 

He looks over to Keith for help, who’s even more socially awkward, of course, so Lance recovers quickly and throws the strangers a grin. “Yeah, sure.”

He takes their phone and angles it downwards so that he can fit them all in. Keith is smiling stiffly, whilst Lance has a characteristic cocked eyebrow and a cheeky glint in his eye. That’s the pose that people seem to freak out about most on Twitter, anyway, and the strangers come away excitedly babbling thank yous and oh my god I can’t believe I met yous. 

“God, I hate this,” Keith mumbles when the two people are a safe distance away. He and Lance walk close together through the growing crowd. It’s a Sunday, so it’s pretty busy. “I never know what to say or do.”

Lance takes a certain pleasure in his small, niche fan base, even if Keith doesn’t really know what to do with it. Lucky for Keith, his fans are Lance’s fans, so he can direct them to him. The two of them are kind of a package deal. 

“That’s fine. You can just lurk in the background and I’ll woo them with my charms,” he jokes, throwing Keith a customary smirk, and he rolls his eyes in response. 

“Where do you wanna hit first?” he asks Lance. They stop in the middle of the crowd, which is flowing in two non-distinct directions, and people are getting grumpy about them planting themselves in the middle of it. 

“What about over there?” Lance says, pointing over people’s heads.

“Uh, I can’t see over there, asshole,” Keith complains, gesturing to Lance’s tall figure. 

“Awww, OK short-stuff, just follow me,” he laughs.

“I’m not even short,” Keith retorts.

“Only short people say that,” Lance says.

“Just because puberty didn’t give you the message to stop growing.”

“Hey!” Lance says, twisting round to throw Keith a glare. It’s fun to get a rise out of Keith, and he equally has fun in acting riled up. Especially because it makes Keith smile like he right now- rolling his eyes and shaking his head, but still smiling. 

They make a pit stop at the mulled wine stall first, and the queue is huge, but Lance knows it’s a must so they join it anyway.

“I never thought I’d be able to look at alcohol again after your birthday,” Keith says, watching Lance lean back to fit the market stall into a shot.

“What the heck was in that stuff Coran brought?”

“I- I don’t even know,” he says weakly. “I was so sick the next day.”

Lance laughs mercilessly, and Keith jabs him with an elbow. “At least we got some amazing pictures out of it.”

Keith nods. “It was a good night.” Lance shows him his lock screen, the photo of them at the club. “Oh man, really, Lance? Seriously?”

“It’s cute,” he argues, shuffling forward in the queue. “Look, you’re genuinely smiling.”

“I look ridiculously drunk,” Keith mutters.

“Yeah, it’s hilarious,” Lance says, and manages to order two cups of mulled wine before Keith can argue. 

It’s hot and sweet and they linger by the stall as they drink and talk. It warms Lance up from the inside out, and it leaves a pleasant steam on his cheeks when he drinks from the mug. Keith looks happy as he cradles the drink with both hands, nose reddening from the heat of the mug hovering at his lips, and Lance takes the opportunity to film him for a few seconds before he can argue.

“You’d better not publish that,” Keith argues, and Lance just laughs in response. 

The food is insanely good. They get bratwurst and these weird flatbreads with cheese and ham, which he can’t remember the German name for so he’s going to have to do some research when he gets home. He manages to get mustard all over his scarf, because he’s never mastered eating a hotdog without pouring sauces all over himself, and Keith won’t stop berating him about not being able to eat like an adult. 

Lance films them both talking about the market and the food with the huge Christmas tree in the background- because they’ve got some of the best responses from readers when they’ve actually talked in the videos, not just put stupid, quirky ukulele music in the background. 

“Come here with a big appetite. Seriously, we just ate, like, a three course meal and we’re about to go get churros, too.”

“I wouldn’t say that qualified as a three course meal,” Lance argues, looking at Keith rather than the camera. “I mean, the fried potatoes were like a side to the bratwurst.”

“OK, so we’ve had a starter and a main,” Keith concludes, rolling his eyes. “Semantics.” 

“We’re not gonna stop at churros either, though, are we? I mean, I saw schnitzel over there. And there’s some crazy looking gingerbread we’ve got to get on…”

“Oh my God, Lance.” Keith buries his face in his palm. 

“What? We’ve gotta make the most of this experience, right? The viewers need to know, Keith. They need to know.”

Lance manages to share a few more things with Keith and then Keith demands that they stop before Lance explodes. Honestly, he could go all day, especially if it means wondering around a Christmas market in snow-fall with Keith. 

This is so much like a date, it actually hurts. Because Lance knows its not. 

Or maybe it is?

Oh god, he really doesn’t know.

They find a quiet spot further into Bryant Park, where they sit down and nurse a hot chocolate with cream. Because Lance insisted that they had to try it. How could you go to a Christmas market without having a hot chocolate? And these ones have the added bonus of being spiked with whiskey, so it’s extra warming. 

He’s so glad he manages to film Keith taking the first sip, because he comes away with cream on his nose. The sight makes him even more certain that he’s falling stupidly in love with the guy, and Lance is laughing loudly in the background whilst Keith looks at him with suspicion. 

“What?”

“Nothing, dude, nothing.”

Keith narrows his eyes and touches his nose with a gloved hand. When he sees the cream rub off, he scowls at Lance.

“You were going to let me walk around all day with cream on my face weren’t you?”

“No?” he says, and Keith tries to wrestle the phone out of his hands in response. 

He gets one more clip of Keith walking away deeper into the park, turning to ask if Lance is coming. It’s a strangely intimate shot, and part of Lance wants to publish it so he can show the world just how beautiful Keith really is when he’s like this- relaxed and happy. 

He follows him into the park, and they walk side-by-side, arms bumping as they go. Lance can’t stop smiling, and it has nothing to do with the delicious food he just ate. No, he’s feeling high from spending time with Keith all afternoon, from messing around with him and going on a romantic walk with him. 

God, he can really see why their fans ship them. They’ve basically been going on dates for weeks. Pidge was the one to point it out, but Lance is struggling to deny it now. Does Keith feel the same? Does he have feelings for him too, or is he just hanging out because they’re friends? 

And what was with the other night at the club- had they almost kissed?

Lance has had enough exes lie to him about their feelings to doubt himself. To feel like Keith would never see him that way. 

He doesn’t know what to do about this. Because either he says something and completely embarrasses himself, or he ends up dating one of his friends, who he trusts, and it’ll be amazing.

He tries to distract himself by initiating conversation as they walk, leaves crunching beneath his feet, New York city skyline surrounding them. “You gonna go back home after this?”

“Yeah,” Keith says. He frowns to himself, pursing his lips in an unexpected show of vulnerability. “Shiro’s away at the moment, so I’ll have the flat to myself.”

“Where is he? An assignment?”

He doesn’t expect the question to be difficult, but apparently it is, because Keith hesitates. “It’s complicated.”

“Oh,” Lance says weakly.

It’s another minute or so before Keith decides to expand. “It’s complicated. It’s to do with my adoption papers. We found out about my real family a few years ago, when they came to our door seeking guardianship, and well, it’s kind of been a mess since.”

Lance blinks. This was an unexpected turn in conversation. “But… you’re twenty two. How is it still an issue?”

Keith scowls to himself. “It’s an issue because they’re Galra, and they don’t stop till they get what they want. And in my case, they want to use me as a pawn in their family business-”

Lance stops in his tracks, jaw hitting the floor. “You’re part of the Galra family?!”

Keith nods wearily. “Yeah. Through my mom, apparently. Although I don’t remember much about my parents.” 

It occurs to Lance that Keith is opening up about something major here, so he reconnects his jaw to his head and continues walking slowly by Keith’s side. He bumps an affectionate arm against him. “Well. That explains those pretty dark eyes,” he says, and it’s meant to be a joke, but it comes out way too sincere, and Lance is internally dying. 

Thankfully, Keith rolls his eyes and goes with it.

“So he’s gone to talk with Galra lawyers?” he asks with a wince. Keith nods. “Yeesh. That must be…”

“The reason this is still an issue is because their lawyers are good, and they don’t give up. They’re not even fighting for guardianship anymore- they just want to give Shiro a hard time for the sake of it.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

Lance nods to himself. “So, he’s gone to Texas, where they’re based, I’m guessing?” Keith nods silently again. “Well, he’ll come back soon. Right? It’ll be fine.”

“I know, I know that logically,” he counters, fidgeting with his hands- one minute rubbing them together, the next waving them around in frustration. “He has Altea’s lawyers on his side this time, too, so this’ll probably end soon, but… it’s been going on for so long, and I feel so…” he pauses, and Lance waits, because he has to be patient. Keith doesn’t pour his heart out to just anyone. “I feel so guilty, because Shiro shouldn’t have to deal with all this.”

“He’s your brother,” Lance says immediately. “He loves you, he’ll do everything he can to keep you happy and safe. You’d do the same for him, right?”

Keith shrugs. “Yeah, but that’s not the point-”

“Yeah, it is.” Keith looks up at with big eyes, and Lance smiles down at him. “Shiro knows what he’s getting into- he’s a clever guy, he went in armed with Altea lawyers. He’s chosen to do this for you, and you’ve got to let him. You can’t control that.”

Keith swallows and sighs slowly. “I know. I- I know. I just wish he didn’t have to do this.”

“But he wants to. He probably thinks you’re worth it.” 

Lance smiles at him, and Keith looks away.

“I’d totally charge into Galra HQ, all guns blazing,” Lance jokes, lightening the mood, and start making sniper noises. “Pow, pow, pow- fuck you, Galra.”

Keith snorts and bends over laughing. “You’re an idiot.”

Lance grins at him goofily, and they brush shoulders as they walk through to the other side of the park. 

 

000

 

Keith logs onto Tumblr when he gets home as he warms up under a blanket on the sofa. He’s still emotionally recovering from how much like a date that Christmas market trip had been, how much he’s falling for Lance, when he finds five new messages. 

**hastalalater** oh man I only just saw this. Im really sorry  
**hastalalater** it’s been a really busy few days. First I had my birthday (wooooooooo 23 yo) the bookshop has been packed with christmas shoppers and I’ve been writing loads of articles for Altea Post (yeah I know right??) and I just came back from the Christmas market at bryant park with the guy that I hate but im actually in love with  
**hastalalater** wow did I send all of that? Lol I definitely didn’t mean to tell you that much about my life. I guess im just super stoked, there’s lot of adrenaline going through my body right now  
**hastalalater** we’ve had this whole anonymous thing going on and I just told you all of that haha… anyway  
**hastalalater** I don’t know how to help you buddy because I’m trying to figure out the very same thing 

Keith reads the words and his stomach plummets. He’s not sure he understands what’s happening- it takes too long for his brain to catch up with the dread that’s settling throughout his body. 

He’s just had his birthday. He works in a bookshop. He’d been telling him about this asshole, who’s gone from taunting him to gently teasing him, to taking him to the Christmas market.

The guy who he knew before he properly met him. The guy he’s started to hang out with more and more. Who he’s falling in love with. 

And Keith knows it can’t be him- that nobody has ever been able to connect with him in that way ever, that the only person not to abandon him is Shiro and he’s not lucky enough for Lance to stick around too-

This can’t be Lance. It’s far too small a world, and Lance would… never love him.

It’s way too much of a coincidence. More than that, if this really were Lance, then that means he’s told him things he’s not told anyone out loud- about his abandonment issues. About how he can’t connect with people because of his ridiculously impervious emotional barriers. About his parents leaving him, about-

-about falling for Lance.

If this is Lance, he doesn’t know what he’ll do. The idea is too awful to comprehend. 

He stares at the screen, before catching his breath and formulating a response.

 **everythingisconnected** you write for Altea Post? That’s cool.  
**hastalalater** yeah! That’s actually kind of why I was at the market today- we were reviewing it together and using it as an excuse to eat everything haha  
**everythingisconnected** haha

His hands are shaking as he types. 

Oh God.

This whole time.

 **everythingisconnected** listen I think we should meet. Since we’re both having the same problem. Maybe we can talk about it face to face

He doesn’t want to. The idea fills with him nausea. But he knows that if this is Lance, he has to know. And he can’t keep it a secret- he can’t lie to him like that. Not about something this big. 

He needs to see him to be sure.

 **hastalalater** wow  
**hastalalater** I mean if you’re sure? I’m definitely up for meeting but I know youre not the biggest people person

Keith almost laughs, because he doesn’t know the half of it. Because all he wants to do right now and shut himself in his room for the rest of eternity. Because if this is Lance, the one person he’s been able to confide in- distinctly because he was anonymous- is gone forever. 

The things he’s told this person… they found him when he was at his most depressed. When he couldn’t hold a conversation with anyone who wasn’t Shiro without having to run to the bathroom and ride out a panic attack. It had taken a while, but he’d eventually told him about dropping out of college, about the fear of disappointing Shiro. About his trust issues, about finally bonding with somebody. 

If this person is Lance, then he’ll never be able to face him again.

Because he thinks he’s falling in love with him. And right now, he can’t cope with the idea that he’s seen him at his absolute worst. That he knows all these terrible things about him.

 **everythingisconnected** yeah lets meet. Tomorrow, midday at central park? I’ll be on the first bench by the East 90th street entrance.  
**hastalalater** yeah that’s perfect  
**hastalalater** I’m so excited to meet you!!!

That’s when Keith chokes on the breath he’s been holding, squeezing his eyes shut. His world is crashing around him, and this time, Shiro isn’t here to pick up the pieces.

He lies under the bed covers and doesn’t move until morning.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so ive had this fic finished for a week or so now but since everyone's losing their minds over the cliffhangers I figured I'd update it daily now haha!

Lance checks that he’s at the right entrance as he goes in. 

He looks up to find the first bench by the gates. And the person sitting on it. 

At first, he thinks it’s a prank. That somehow, Keith and the others have got a hold of his phone and are playing some cruel trick on him. At first, all he can feel is humiliation as he watches Keith’s eyes fall on him. But then he sees Keith grimace. He sees his jaw lock, can practically hear his teeth _clack_ together. 

He doesn’t move. People mill around him. Christmas time in Central Park is busy. It’s December and people are happy and excited. Lance is a frozen rock, unmoving within the crowd.

That’s when Keith stands up slowly from the bench, turns his phone around in his hand to show Lance the screen. It’s their Tumblr conversation. 

_Their_ conversation. 

Keith’s eyes are shining and Lance is sure he’s imagining it. 

He finds he still can’t move. He doesn’t understand. And then he does.

“It’s you,” he says simply.

Keith doesn’t respond. He shuts his eyes, collapses back onto the bench. 

There’s a ray of hope that’s shining through all the confusion going through his head. Because this is a lot to process- that his online friend’s been Keith this whole time- but part of him thinks that maybe the person Keith’s been talking about this whole time is him. Maybe Keith has been falling for Lance, just like Lance has been falling for him.

That hope is quickly dashed when Keith puts his face in his hands and doesn’t look up again.

Lance swallows. He holds his breath.

“Are you OK?” he asks weakly. He doesn’t even know if _he’s_ OK.

Keith scoffs, a cruel sound to Lance’s doubtful ears, even if it is muffled by his hands over his face. It twists his heart. 

“I’ve told you things on there, Lance.” Lance blinks, standing on the spot. He can’t stop looking at Keith on that bench, and it starts to sink in that this whole time, he’s been ranting to Keith about this guy he hates and how he’s been falling in love with him. And how _obvious_ it is that he was talking about Keith this whole time. “You know things about me that I’ve never wanted to put on anyone.”

The humiliation returns and it’s stronger than ever. He wants to be sick. 

“I’ve told you things too.” He’s told him that he loves him. And he didn’t even realise that it was him he was talking to. 

His legs shake a little under his weight.

He thinks he’s going to throw up.

Keith shakes his head in his hands. “It’s not the same. Nobody knows that shit about me, no one but Shiro.”

The penny finally drops. Keith doesn’t want it to be him. He doesn’t want Lance to be the one to know those things about him. He isn’t, can’t be the one he’s been falling for. 

Because if he had been talking about him, surely he’d be happy right now- happy that the person he’s been confiding in is someone he likes, and trusts. Instead, he can’t look at him. He’s burying his face in his hands, and he can’t even look at Lance standing there. 

And he knows that Lance loves him. 

He knows. He must have figured it out. Keith has feelings for someone else, and he’s found out that Lance has been falling for him. And he’s so ashamed, so embarrassed about it that he can’t even look him in the eye.

He’s never felt so humiliated in his life. Even when Nyma told him she didn’t love him. Even when she’d looked at him with pitying eyes as he walked away.

Lance takes a shaky breath. “I should go.”

He turns before he can see Keith look up at him, stand to follow him.

“Lance- wait-”

“I get it,” he says, tears finally streaming down his face. His voice is wobbly and he wishes he was stronger than this, but he isn’t. Because he’s fallen in love with him and this is how it’s always worked with the people he loves. They leave him. 

How could so much change in barely a minute?

“I get it. I’m not the guy you wanted to see today. I’m never going to be who you want,” he chokes. _I’m never going to be enough. I’m never going to be the one who’s loved._

“Lance,” he can hear him chasing him, but he can’t look at him. “If I could take it back, I would.”

Lance stops in his tracks. He doesn’t notice the people walking around him, staring at him, them, arguing in the street. He turns round, and he sees Keith’s expression and it makes him want to die. He sees pity. He’s embarrassing him in front of all these people. 

“That’s the thing, Keith. I wouldn’t take any of it back. Not any of it.”

It comes out as a whisper. He feels his lip quiver and he turns on the spot before he can see Keith’s expression become anymore pained. 

“Lance- you don’t understand-”

He doesn’t remember walking home. He thinks that maybe he’s high, or maybe he’s dreaming. That this is a nightmare and that he’ll wake up to find-

He didn’t tell Keith that he loves him anonymously.

He didn’t find Keith waiting for him on that park bench.

Keith didn’t look like he wanted to cry when he realised it was Lance he’d been talking to all this time. 

But he’s awake, and he’s alive, and he knows this because the cold is biting his face and he can feel his heart beat in his throat. He knows when he bursts into his flat (how did he get home so fast?) fumbles around the kitchen in his coat and tries to find a glass. He fills it with water and slams it on the counter, suddenly thinking that if he drinks he’ll throw it back up again. 

Keith doesn’t want to see him again. He wants to take it back. Take all of it back. 

Some deluded part of him had felt that Keith had been falling for him too. But now he knows for sure that Keith wants anything but to open up to him, is embarrassed and horrified by their conversation, but Lance’s feelings for him, that-

He can hear himself letting out choking sobs. He slides to the floor and buries his face in his hands.

He can’t cope with being left behind again. He can’t. But he knows. He knows that anyone who says that they like him, anyone who says the love him always take it back. He’s never enough for anybody, and he’s not what Keith wants.

He’s shaking. The floor is cold but he can’t really feel it. 

Why does he fall in love so easily? And why does he always fall for people who don’t think he’s worth the effort? Why did Keith have to be the same as the rest of them? 

Lance doesn’t really believe it when he thinks it. He doesn’t believe he’s lying to him like Nyma did, and yet the alarm bells in Lance’s head are shouting to him that Keith never liked him the first place, that he doesn’t want to see him again, that he’s inadequate.

He doesn’t even hear Hunk and Pidge come through the door through the sound of his rattling breaths. Lance suddenly sees Hunk loom into his vision, sees Pidge take his face in both hands and look him directly in the eyes.

“Lance, look at me, it’s OK. Tell me what happened. Lance.”

“Buddy, oh man, Pidge, he’s totally out of it…”

He looks at Pidge, who nods encouragingly. “That’s it, you’re safe, you’re with me and Hunk. It’s OK.”

“It was him,” Lance croaked. His voice is hoarse from crying.

“Who, Lance? What happened?” Hunk asks, taking his hands. Hunk is warm. “Geez, your ice cold.”

“It was Keith. My Tumblr person, it was Keith this whole time.”

Pidge nods slowly. “And you’ve been talking to him about…”

“Oh man,” Hunk whispers. “What, what does that mean?” he asks Pidge, show shakes their head wordlessly. “What are even the chances of something like that happening…?”

Pidge takes Lance through more steady breathing, ask him to imitate their own breathing. He does, and he finds his heart rate going back down. The tears dry on his face, leaving him cold.

“What happened?” Pidge asks evenly.

They’re both sitting on either side of him, leaning against the kitchen counter. He remembers he’s still wearing his coat and shoes.

“I messaged him on Tumblr yesterday. Saying how I’d been to the Christmas market with Keith, how I’d been really busy,” he explains, voice still shaky. “And that… that I was in love with him… and he…” he shakes his head, and instead shows them the conversation on his phone. They read it, exchange a glance and look back at Lance.

“You just came back from meeting him?” Hunk asks. 

“Yeah,” he says. “He looked at me like… God. He knows I love him. He knows and he couldn’t even look at me. He wouldn’t look at me, and he told me he wanted to take it all back.”

Pidge lets out a long breath. They put their head on his shoulder, and Lance begins to cry again. Hunk puts an arm around him and draws him into a hug. 

“I’m so, so sorry, Lance.” 

Nobody says anything for a while. Pidge makes him a cocoa, gives him a glass of water. He takes a sip of both, but can’t stomach anymore. They eventually pry him from the floor, and he takes his coat off, replacing his outfit for his onesie. Hunk puts on his and Pidge even puts theirs on, too, for solidarity. Hunk puts on Disney movies and Lance stares blankly at the screen for most of it, turning his phone absent-mindedly over in his hand. 

Until he opens up messenger.

“Lance, nooooo,” Pidge warns. “Don’t. You’ll spend all night waiting for him to reply, and he’s probably hurting as much as you…”

“I know he doesn’t want to talk to me right now, but I just… I need him to know that I still…” his lip quivers, and he manages to stave off another sob before continuing. “I don’t want to ruin our friendship. I don’t want to lose him because I…” 

“I know,” Hunk soothes, pausing Frozen. He sighs, watches Lance open up their messages. “Listen, dude…. I know that… your exes have really fucked you over. And it’s totally understandable that you think he doesn’t like you back, but…”

“Have you thought that, maybe, he’s freaking out because he likes you back?” Pidge says. Lance frowns. 

“I don’t…”

“He’s pushing you away because he’s scared. He’s scared that after all the stuff he’s told you, you’re going to reject him, so he’s….”

“Rejecting you first,” Hunk supplies. “Which is totally unacceptable-”

“It’s always going to be like this,” Lance whispers.

“No, buddy, it isn’t,” Hunk says, grabbing him and wrapping him up in his arms. “You’re amazing and perfect and you shouldn’t let anyone make you feel inadequate.”

The breath catches in Lance’s throat, because he remembers Keith saying the exact same thing. Before he knew it was him. 

“I… I don’t want to get your hopes up, or, whatever. I just- I dunno, bud. This feels like all this crap isn’t going to last. I really think he likes you. And even if he doesn’t like you in that way, I don’t see this getting in the way of your relationship, you know?”

“Yeah,” Pidge adds. “I think he’s just freaking out because of his own issues. If he’s told you all this stuff on Tumblr, he’s probably thinking he wishes he’d told you face to face, because you’re his friend. He’s just… yeah. He’s freaking out.”

“And it’s because you matter to him that he’s freaking out. He wants to take back what he said because he doesn’t want that to be the reason you leave him.” Hunk says. 

Lance sighs, stares at his phone. “I don’t know. I just… I don’t think that… he can’t really like me like that.”

No one says anything. 

“I have to ask him what he’s-”

“Don’t message him, Lance.”

“No. Give him space. If anything, he should message you first and apologise for freaking out so much.”

“If he’s trying to push you away, you’re going to make him push you further away if you try and talk to him now,” Pidge says.

Lance flops onto Hunk’s lap.

“You really think he likes me?”

“I genuinely do,” Hunk says. 

“I do, too,” Pidge says. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He’s just…. So emotionally constipated that he doesn’t know how to express it. Or deal with… this.”

“Yeah,” Hunk says quietly. 

Lance sighs. “I dunno. I kind of thought he did, too. And the first thing I thought when I saw him on that park bench was that… he was telling me on Tumblr that he was falling for this guy… and I thought maybe it was me. Until…”

“Wait, he did?” Pidge exclaims. 

Lance nods.

“Wait, wait,” Hunk says. “Let me see. Can I see your messages?”

Lance hesitates. “There are some heavy things on there… that he talks to me about…”

“Yeah, duh, don’t show us that bit,” Pidge says. “Start from the point where you met him in the shop, or wherever you think he starts talking about you.”

Lance thinks about this, then gives his phone to Hunk. Pidge leans over and reads beside him. A few minutes later, and Hunk says, “Oh my God. Dude, he’s definitely talking about you.”

“You don’t know that, Hunk,” Lance complains. “You can’t say that.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m not trying to give you false hope or anything, but… this just solidifies my theory. That he’s totally fallen for you and he’s freaking out that you’re going to leave him when you realise he’s got all these issues.”

“Oh my god,” Pidge says. “’What do you do if you’re falling for a friend but you don’t want to ruin it. Do you take the chance? Or do you try to forget and hope it wont kill you?’ Lance. Lance, this is crazy.”

“You don’t know he’s talking about me!” Lance cries, sitting up. “You didn’t see his face when he saw me in Central Park.”

“Because he’s scared he’s ruined his chance!” Hunk says. “He even said earlier that he hides behind his feelings,” he says, jabbing at the phone.

Pidge puts a hand on Lance’s arm. He looks at them and Pidge looks back evenly. “Lance. All we’re trying to say is, don’t give up on this just yet. Give him time. You have to let him digest this. You’re someone he really, indisputably cares about, and he’s just found out that he’s told you all this deep shit he hasn’t told anyone else.”

“Without knowing it was you,” Hunk adds.

“Without knowing it was you,” Pidge emphasises. Lance looks between them like he’s watching a tennis match. “He’s probably really scared and humiliated and… he deserves a little time to figure it out.”

“This isn’t like with Nyma,” Hunk says, and Lance’s blood runs cold at the name. “He hasn’t told you he loves you and then said he doesn’t actually love you anymore. He hasn’t been lying to you. He’s just… realised something massive, and needs time to think.”

“Exactly,” Pidge says. “This isn’t like with Nyma or the others. He’s not using you or even really _trying_ to push you away. He’s just…”

“Scared.”

Lance slumps down the sofa and feels tears roll down his cheeks. He considers this. Whilst he’s not sure he believes that Keith has feelings for him, he finds it hard to believe that he’d stopped caring about him entirely. Or that he was just faking it, like Nyma did. Because, as much as Lance has a lot of trust issues… he trusts Keith with his life. 

“Have I ruined this?” he asks quietly. 

Hunk bundles him into another hug, squeezing the air out of him. “Buddy, no no no no no. You haven’t even _done_ anything.”

Lance eventually feels himself calm down. Hunk confiscates his phone. They watch Tangled after Frozen. It gets late, and they have work the next morning, so they go to bed. Pidge asks Lance if he needs the day off- but he knows that if he does that, he’ll spend all day crying. So he says he’ll go in with them. 

He goes to bed. He turns off the lights. He lies under the covers and laments a relationship that he’d never even had the chance to have. 

His clock says it’s 1am when he wakes up from a fitful, tear streaked sleep. It’s Hunk.

“Hey,” he whispers, and Lance watches his friend’s vast silhouette creep through the dark and perch on the side of his bed. “Your phone buzzed. It’s Keith. I wasn’t sure whether to wait until morning…”

Lance takes it and looks at the screen. 

Asshole sent you a message. 

“Should I read it?”

“I dunno, man. I’m sorry- I should have waited until morning.”

“No, it’s OK,” he says, wiping his sore eyes and sniffing. 

He puts the phone on his bedside table.

“Do you want me to stay the night?” Hunk asks. 

Hunk and him used to bunk up in college, when bad things happened. Hunk came over to his when Nyma broke up with him- and for a few nights after, through the subsequent trauma. Lance stayed with him after Hunk’s grandma died. 

He thinks about it seriously for a moment. He doesn’t really know. 

“I love him,” he says out loud, because that’s all he knows for certain. It feels like a death sentence, when before it was the best thing that had happened to him. 

“I know,” Hunk whispers. 

They sit silently in the dark for a while.

“I think I’ll be OK,” Lance says. He crawls over to Hunk. “Thank you, Hunk. You know I love you, right?”

“Yeah, buddy, I do,” he says, rubbing his back. “I love you too, bro.”

They both laugh quietly at the tender moment, before Hunk shuffles out of the room. 

Lance looks over to his phone. 

_Asshole sent you a message._

It’s 1:20 am. He should really try to sleep. But…

He opens the message. It’s long. 

**Asshole** Hey. I hope you’re OK. I’m so, so sorry for freaking out earlier. I know you must think I’m a total asshole right now. I know I’ve been one. I know there’s no excuse for acting like I did in the park… all I can say is that I’m sorry. I was convinced that as soon as you found out I was the one who told you all those things on Tumblr that you’d want to leave me and never see me again.   
**Asshole** I guess you know better than anyone that I’ve been through some shit. The fact that you know about my depressive episodes, about my parents abandoning me- it really scared me. Especially because you mean a lot to me, Lance, and I was fully expecting you to leave, just like everyone else.  
 **Asshole** I know it’s not an excuse. And I’m so, so sorry. I’m so so fucking sorry. I know that you’re better than the rest of them. I always knew that. And I wish I wasn’t so defensive around you, because you don’t deserve that.  
 **Asshole** You probably need space right now. I’m totally willing to give it to you. But.... if you want to talk about this, then I’m here to talk.   
**Asshole** And… just so you know, I wouldn’t take any of it back, either. Not really. Not if you mean what you said. 

Lance stares at his phone, rereads it and rereads it and rereads it. 

He doesn’t even think about whether he should respond or not. 

**Loser** Hey… honestly, this is a lot to think about

He deletes and rephrases.

**Loser** Hey… I’m sorry for running away before, not sticking around to talk it out…   
**Loser** I understand why you’re scared. I am too. It feels like everything was going great, and then suddenly we find out this and… it’s crazy. It’s a lot to think about. I was defensive too.  
 **Loser** … because I’ve been through shit too. There’s a lot you don’t know, that I haven’t told you, about my exes. I’ve been in some shitty relationships where people have lied to me, where people haven’t been insincere… and that kind of left me with some issues.   
**Loser** So when I saw you freaking out, after some of the things I told you, like how I’m falling for you… I took it personally. I thought you wanting to take it all back meant you were telling me you’d been hanging out with me because you felt you had to. Or something. 

Keith is watching the messages as they come in- Lance can tell by the _seen at 01:32_. It’s terrifying and also a relief to know that he doesn’t have to wait for him to read them. 

**Loser** I know it makes no sense  
 **Loser** I’ve always felt inadequate, and with you… I was so scared today that that was you telling me I’m not enough. That I’m not worth it. Just… from past experience.

He knows he shouldn’t be saying any of these things. It’s past one in the morning, and nothing sensible is said at this time. Nonetheless, he watches Keith type in sick anticipation, bright screen lighting up his face in the dark. Tears are streaming down his cheeks.

**Asshole** I’m sorry. I had no idea.   
**Loser** there’s no reason why you would   
**Asshole** I just… I read through our messages on Tumblr and I realise how shit I’ve made you feel.   
**Asshole** I really don’t want to make you feel that way.  
 **Loser** that was a long time ago before we knew each other properly though. You make me feel amazing

He hopes he won’t regret saying that tomorrow morning. Well, this morning.

**Asshole** you mean so much to me Lance  
 **Asshole** …. I just needed to tell you I was sorry. And I don’t want to lose you  
 **Loser** You haven’t lost me, Keith. No way. You can’t shake me off that easily. :P   
**Asshole** I need to think for a bit.   
**Loser** yeah. Me too  
 **Asshole** talk tomorrow?  
 **Loser** yeah  
 **Loser** and… Keith. 

Does he know? Does Keith know? 

**Loser** if you haven’t worked it out… the person I was talking about in my messages is you.   
**Asshole** I wasn’t certain.   
**Asshole** the person I was talking about is you, too. 

His heart leaps. But Lance wonders if that’s all changed, now. Whether he still has feelings for him, whether it’s all ruined. He doesn’t think he can ask. He’s too frightened, too tired.

He’s so, so tired. 

He falls asleep quickly. 

Lance wakes up the next morning groggy and with a dry mouth. Hunk is the one to wake him, gently shaking him with a mug of cocoa in his hands. 

“You know you don’t have to come in today, right?” 

Lance shuffles up in bed and cradles the mug gratefully in his hands. 

“I know. I want to.”

Hunk nods. Pidge patters in, rubbing their eyes sleepily.

“Any news?” they ask.

“Keith messaged me,” Lance says. He takes his phone from beside the pillow- he’d fallen asleep with it by his face.

“What did he say?” Hunk asks.

“He apologised for freaking out… said it’s because he was scared of being rejected. I think he thought I was going to run for the hills as soon as I put two and two together.”

“Called it,” Pidge said.

“What now?”

Lance shrugs. “We both said we needed to think. So I guess… that’s what we’ll do. I don’t know.”

“Did he say anything about the guy he was talking about?” Pidge aks.

“Yeah, he said it was me.”

“Called it,” Hunk repeats, and he and Pidge high five.

“That doesn’t mean anything, not now,” Lance mutters.

“…. You’re kidding, right?” Pidge says. “He admits he’s falling for you, he says he’s he’s scared of you rejecting him… he can’t be anymore clear.”

“Yeah, but Pidge,” Hunk says, “Lance told him he loves him. And he hasn’t actually responded to that yet- he hasn’t actually told him his feelings for him directly. He needs to do that- I don’t think it’s Lance’s move, you know?”

Lance is so glad Hunk knows him so well. 

They all eat breakfast together that morning, which is rare considering that their shifts are staggered, usually. But Lance feels he might as well go in with them both this morning; he doesn’t want to spend the whole day waiting on Keith’s message. He needs a distraction. 

Turns out, work doesn’t do much to distract him. 

Instead, he’s just minding the till thinking of things to say to Keith. He’s gift wrapping books considering whether he should straight up message him and say he’s in love with him. He’s restocking the shelves wondering if he’s made it clear enough, whether Keith knows that him needing to think doesn’t mean he’s leaving him, because that’s unimaginable. 

Has me messed up? He wonders if he should have told Keith more, whether he really knows how much he cares and how much he’s willing to explore with Keith- whether he knows that he’d _never_ reject him. He feels like he’s made to be by his side. 

Does he know? Oh God, Lance hopes he knows. 

He should say something.

No, he should give him space.

He flies upstairs and into the staff room on his break, unable to move anywhere without buzzing with frustration. He turns on the TV out of instinct, taking out his phone for the 300th time today- only this time, to find a message from Keith.

He doesn’t breath for what feels like an hour as he reads and rereads the message.

**Asshole** When you said you didn’t scare that easy. That I haven’t lost you, after all the stuff that I’ve told you.  
 **Asshole** Did you mean it?

Lance takes a shaky breath. He responds immediately.

**Loser** Keith  
 **Loser** when I said I was falling in love with you on Tumblr? I meant it  
 **Loser** so yeah. I meant it

Keith doesn’t say anything, but he’s seen the messages. It’s killing Lance. It takes forever for Keith to reply. He’s not expecting an essay, but he was expecting more than a sentence.

**Asshole** …OK, then.  
 **Asshole** I know that me telling you how I feel isn’t enough. You need more than words. I understand that now.

Keith doesn’t say anything else. 

Lance has absolutely no idea what that means.

If anything, he feels like he’s somehow pissed Keith off. He stares at the message for a while and tries to figure out what to say. He has absolutely no clue.

So he returns to the shop floor, slinks behind the counter, where Hunk is dealing with a customer. He raises his eyebrows in a silent question of ‘are you OK?’ and Lance nods in response. He gazes over the counter, completely spaced out and unable to focus on anything. 

He’s been thinking about how to reply to that last message, but nothing sensible comes to mind. Instead, something in him boils over, and he takes out his phone and starts typing.

**Loser** I know you probably don’t feel the same way and I know I’m not really cool or clever or interesting or anything, I’m just bla, just some guy who works in a bookshop and has fallen head over heels for his friend like an idiot. I know I’m not really relationship material, I’m clingy and annoying and loud and that’s really not cute. and I don’t know why im saying any of this other than please don’t let me falling for you ruin what we have because you mean so fucking much to me Keith. I understand why you wouldn’t feel the same way as me but these past few weeks have been the happiest of my life and I’m happy just being your friend if that’s what you want   
**Loser** You don’t have to love me back. I just… I can’t loose you 

Keith isn’t online. Fucking hell. So Lance zones out again, staring at the space between his feet, and now he’s really fucking regretting saying anything. Why did he have to blab? Now’s he’s probably really freaked Keith out, telling him he loves him _again_ when they’ve only really known each other for a few weeks, and spilling all of his feelings at him when he obviously needed space-

Lance moans loudly to himself and hangs his head in shame and misery. Hunk gives him a squeeze on the shoulder

His phone buzzes.

**Asshole** …. Oh Lance.  
 **Asshole** none of that is true. And I don’t want to be just friends.  
 **Asshole** I didn’t mean to make you freak out even more. God, I’m so bad at this.  
 **Asshole** Look, I knew that nothing I could say would make you realise how much you mean to me so just.  
 **Asshole** check my blog.  
 **Asshole** I wrote it last night, but i wanted to check with you before i published it

That’s when Lance gets a notification from Keith’s wordpress, saying it’s been updated.

**Asshole** you have permission to kill me if this is totally cringy but… actions speak louder than words. And…. I didn’t know how else to persuade you.  
 **Loser** I don’t understand  
 **Asshole** Jesus just   
**Asshole** check my blog Lance. Please.

Lance frowns at the screen, is thinking of a hundred different things he could say, but instead, clicks on the notification link and waits for the page to load.

He doesn’t know what to expect. He’s confused and terrified. He doesn’t understand and he doesn’t get why Keith’s sending him to his wordpress.

He definitely doesn’t expect what he reads.

_I’m writing this at three o’clock in the morning. It’s dark outside and I think it’s snowing- although it’s too dark to tell. With any luck, you’ll be reading this during the day, after some heavy editing. This article isn’t exactly my best piece of journalism, but then, that’s not really the point._

_There are people chatting loudly outside my apartment, even at this time of night. New York city is never quiet. They were right when they said it never sleeps. That’s something I can empathise with right now. I can’t sleep; I can’t stop replaying all the stupid crap I’ve said, and how I can make it right._

_Nothing good is written past three o’clock in the morning. I know that it’s completely crazy to try and rectify all this now, but then, nothing I do seems to make sense when it concerns you._

_There’s a part of me that wonders if this is a good idea, because it’s definitely not a wise one. Nevertheless, some of the best decisions in life aren’t made from wise choices. They’re made from the heart. And, as I write this from my living room in the dark at three o’clock in the morning, with only one thing- one person- on my mind, I can definitely say that this is a decision made from the heart._

_It’s always from the heart, with you._

_God, this is insane. I could say I have no idea what I'm doing, writing this. Except that would imply that I haven't thought about publishing this over and over- which I have. So, yeah. I actually have a very good idea of what I'm doing. It's kind of terrifying, and I guess I'm doing it anyway._

_I’m not good at talking about myself in articles. I evade the topic of my likes and interests even in opinion pieces. Nothing personal. I mean- what do I say? Does anybody really care? In all honestly, I feel self-conscious. But in this case, that’s not an issue I want to indulge in with this article._

_Is this even an article? Not really. It’s more like a letter, to you._

_So. Here I am, publishing my letter to you, for everyone to read, rather than sending it to you personally. You’re probably wondering why. Well, it’s because I’m falling in love with you._

_And I know now, that persuading you of this fact, is only possible through action- not just words._

_So this is my declaration. To the whole world. My declaration that right now, in this moment, as I write this, I am falling in love with you. I don’t know what will happen next. Maybe we’ll get together, maybe we won’t. Maybe we will and we’ll break up somewhere down the line. I can’t say._

_What I can promise is that, right now, I feel like I belong by your side. And that nothing I say to you will be anything but sincere._

_Who’s to say when I started falling. I have a feeling it’s been from day one. And do you know what the really weird thing is? The weird thing is, that it doesn’t even seem all that weird. We’ve only known each other for a couple of months, sure- but in retrospect, we’ve actually been dating for weeks without even realising._

_And, well, you’re easy to love. Even if you drive me fucking crazy._

_You know me well enough to realise that public displays of affection aren’t my thing. I know you well enough now to know that that’s what you need in a relationship. You need to see the substance behind the words for them have meaning._

_So, I hope that this letter to you, to the world, is a big enough statement._

“Lance…” It’s Hunk. He and Pidge are reading off of their phone. “Are you seeing this?”

“I’m seeing it,” he breathes, gripping his phone in his hand.

_I’ve spent my life hiding behind fear and emotional barriers. For the most part, I’ve had to. But I don’t want that with you. You deserve better. You deserve what you give to those around you- everything._

_You deserve nothing but whole-hearted, unreserved love. So this is me- giving it, for the world to see. Openly. In your words, ‘no take-backsies.’_

_It’s terrifying. But worth it- if it means you start to see yourself in the way everyone else sees you._

“Have you read it yet?” Pidge asks, bouncing up and down.

“I haven’t finished, don’t rush me!” Lance says.

_A while ago, you commented on one of my articles. You said my closing line was pretentious- ‘This city is cold and cruel, but that doesn’t make it any less alive’. You were right. It’s totally pretentious- but that doesn’t make it any less true. This city, it’s people, it’s been cruel to both of us._

_But it’s the ones like you that make it alive._

Lance stares at his screen. 

“Have you finished it?” Pidge asks again.

“Yeah.”

“Bro,” Hunk says simply.

“Yeah.”

They stare at Lance in awe, each one of them waiting for the other to say something. Because that article has left them all speechless. 

He returns to his messages with Keith.

**Loser** …. Keith.  
 **Asshole** Oh man. I fucked up didn’t I?  
 **Asshole** you know, I could totally just delete it. It’s cool  
 **Loser** no no  
 **Loser** … I’m guessing that was about me  
 **Asshole** are you  
 **Asshole** are you fucking serious, yes it was about you asshole  
 **Loser** I JUST WANTED TO CHECK   
**Asshole** I cant believe you   
**Loser** I don’t know what to say  
 **Asshole** well that’s a fucking change

Lance shoves his phone in his pocket and grabs his coat. 

“I have to go see him, Pidge- I’m sorry, I can cover your shift on Tuesday-”

“That doesn’t matter right now,” they assert, pushing him out the shop door. “Go get him.”

“Oh my god this is so romantic, oh my god, GOOD LUCK LANCE!” Hunk cries out as Lance powers down the street.

Fragments of the article are replaying in his mind as Lance walks through the darkening streets of New York City, frozen snow crunching underfoot. It’s cold as fuck. People are definitely staring at him as he sprints down the street with a grin plastered across his face. The freezing air is making his chest sting as he runs. And the subway is so busy that he’s practically fighting his way through the crowd. But none of that matters. 

He lets his feet take him to Keith.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY THE BOYS GET THEIR ACT TOGETHER
> 
> Thank you everyone for your wonderful comments. It gives me LIFE. <3

Keith has fallen asleep on the sofa with the phone in his hands when there’s a knock at the door that wakes him up. Usually guests have to be buzzed in, so he’s a little alarmed at first, almost falls off the sofa in surprise and onto his face. Instead, he rubs a hand over his eyes, checks his phone- no message from Lance since their last conversation. He’s not sure what that means. 

He still can’t quite believe he posted it. He can’t quite believe he’s been falling for Lance this whole time- and yet he’s painfully aware of it.

Smoothing down his pyjamas and ruffling his hair into something more presentable, he shuffles to the door, wondering if he should message him. 

He opens it to find Lance standing there.

“Lance-?”

He doesn’t get a chance to say anything because suddenly Lance is kissing him. Keith stumbles back slightly, Lance’s hands cupping his face, before pulling back. The two of them stare at each other for a moment. No words are coming to him.

Then a grin spreads across Lance’s face, eyes bright and slightly manic. “You’re crazy, Kogane.”

“I…” he tries.

“That article, oh my god- what were you thinking?” he says, and Keith is unnerved by that response before he’s pulled into another kiss, and he kisses back. Oh god, he’s kissing Lance- that news catches up with his brain and then he remembers that he’s still in his pyjamas and hasn’t showered yet and this is all very sudden considering he was asleep a minute ago. 

“Lance-” Keith pulls away, takes in the sight of Lance looking down at him dreamily, post-kiss. It then occurs to him that he doesn’t actually know what to say to him. “Does this mean that you liked it?”

“Liked it? Keith, I….” He shakes his head, unable to find the words, and strokes Keith’s fringe out of his face. It reminds him of that walk they took together through Central Park and it makes his chest clench. He’s really here. He read his article and he’s here. “It’s amazing. No one’s ever… I just can’t believe you really published all those things.”

“I know,” Keith says. “I was kind of delirious from sleep deprivation when I wrote it… but I figured…”

“Well, it worked,” Lance says, brushing a thumb across his cheekbone. Keith leans slightly into his hand, watches the way he laughs in disbelief at the situation. “I know I need a lot of persuading, but… you know that now you’re not going to be able to shake me off, now, right? I mean, after all those things you said… I still can’t believe you…. I’m not going anywhere. You know that, right?”

Keith’s throat goes dry, and a sudden urge to cry creeps up on him. He dips his head so Lance doesn’t see, but Lance tilts his face up to him and looks him in the eyes. 

“You’ve got me.” Keith can feel the tears come to his eyes, and he finds his hands coming to rest on Lance’s chest. A vulnerable smile flashes across his face. “Just. Don’t break my heart. Please. It’ll totally kill me, and I’m pretty sure Pidge and Hunk would destroy you.”

“Not gonna happen,” he says, finally finding his voice again. “I know better than that. I’m going to do whatever it takes to show you that I mean what I say.”

Lance’s forehead meets his. “Ditto.”

In that moment, both of them truly felt that the other would stay. That they weren’t like the others, from before. 

Lance’s eyes drifted down, spotted Keith’s pyjamas. “Were you asleep?”

Keith cringed. “Uh. Yeah. I didn’t get to sleep until 9am today. I’ve been napping on and off.”

“Oh,” Lance nods, pulling away slowly. “I should let you sleep.”

“No.” Keith takes his hand before he can turn back through the door. “Stay. I want you to stay.” Lance’s eyes brighten. He closes the door and suddenly it feels a lot more intimate- the apartment to themselves. “Just… let me go shower. Then, I dunno, we can put a movie on. Because as soon as I sit down again, I’ll be out like a light and I don’t want you to be bored.”

Lance chuckles. “Ok, no worries. You sure you want me to stay?”

“I’m sure,” he says, catches Lance bashfully dip his head, before heading off to shower. 

_Fuck, fuck, fuck_ he thinks to himself as he shuts the bathroom door behind him and leans against it. It takes a long moment for it all to settle in. Lance here. Kissing him in response to his unlikely romantic gesture. Which he can still barely believe he did. Gushing his emotions online? He supposes Lance brings it out of him. The heat and steam of the shower heighten the pleasant light-headedness that’s come over him. He has to remind himself that Lance is sitting just next door. That he’s staying. 

He’s suddenly feeling pretty embarrassed that Lance came over and kissed him dramatically, only to find Keith in his pyjamas. 

And then he finds himself wondering what comes next. They’re not exactly a conventional pair- they started off hating each other, only to realise that the intensity of their feelings was actually of a very different type. Were they dating now? 

Was Lance going to stay the night?

Keith emerges from his en suite and put on some comfy clothes, sweat pants hanging low on his hips. It seems weird to change into proper clothes when he’s only going to fall back asleep again in front of the TV. But then, maybe he should put something a little… nicer on? Considering that he’s declared his love to the guy sitting next door, and now he’s here? 

Keith stands in his bedroom, shirt less and wearing his Adidas sweatpants, and gets frustrated at his own decision. He growls to himself as he tears through a chest of draws, throws on a t-shirt feeling more flustered than is entirely necessary considering all he’s choosing is an outfit. 

“It doesn’t matter, just fucking put something on,” Keith mutters to himself. He dries his hair (because he’s not giving Lance the satisfaction of seeing him with wet hair. The mullet jokes would never end) and eventually emerges. Lance turns round from his spot on the sofa. His eyes flick from his down his body, before he turns away again.

“Hey. I made you tea.”

Oh. That’s… really nice of him. 

“I figured it’ll go cold and you’ll just fall asleep without drinking it, but,” he says, shrugging, as Keith sits awkwardly next to him on the sofa. 

“What are we watching?”

“Uh, I dunno. I was just gonna put Ghostbusters on. Because, you know. Great movie.”

“Yeah.”

Keith takes the mug of tea in his hands, and stares at it. Lance is watching him, leaning back comfortably on the sofa with an arm draped over the back. He’s more relaxed than he is, for sure, and when Keith looks up at him, Lance seems amused.

“What?” Keith asks defensively.

Lance laughs. “You’re just super awkward. I haven’t seen you this weird since we first started hanging out as friends. Or dating- however you look at it.”

Keith rolls his eyes before he can help himself, which only goes to prove Lance’s point. He feels tense, nervous, and doesn’t know what to do with himself. Doesn’t know what to do next. What comes after a declaration of love? This is weird. Totally weird.

“So? I’m not really good at this,” Keith mumbles. 

Lance doesn’t reply at first. “Yeah, well, I am. Come here.” He extends his arm, a gesture for Keith to lean against him. “Come on. You can fall asleep and I’ll watch Ghostbusters. Right?”

That was the plan. Keith hesitates; Lance looks expectantly through his eyelashes. He’s been thinking about being close with Lance for weeks now, but he’s suddenly very anxious about it now that the moment has come. He shuffles along the sofa, putting the tea back on the coffee table, and snuggles up against Lance, his back pressed against Lance’s side. An arm drapes itself over the back of the sofa behind him. 

“Geez, you’re so bony,” Keith complains, humour seeping into his words.

“God- why does everyone say that? I’m the best at hugs.”

Keith snorts, and shuffles uncomfortably. Lance sighs dramatically.

“Wait,” Lance demands, reorganising himself so that he brings his legs onto the sofa. He invites Keith to sit between them and lean back. He does, and it’s surprisingly comfy. As well as ridiculously… boyfriend-y. It’s making his chest flutter.

“There,” Lance says, though it comes out sounding a little strained. Keith gets the sense that he’s feeling just as ruffled as he is, even if he’s better at being outwardly affectionate than him. He’s definitely a little more than a bit smug about how fast Lance’s heart is beating- he can feel it, Lance’s chest pressed against his shoulder blades. 

Lance starts the movie, and at some point, Keith must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knows, he’s in and out of consciousness, occasionally picking up lines from the movie, sometimes becoming aware of just how warm and cosy he is. He wakes up at one point to feel Lance’s chin resting gently on the top of his head, a hand lying casually on his arm, and it makes him smile, before he’s pulled back into sleep again. He wonders distantly if he’s too heavy for Lance, since he’s just lying, unconscious on him. But he finds he doesn’t really care, because he’s far too comfortable and happy.

He wakes up properly as the film is ending, because Lance is saying his name. His head is leaning just below Lance’s collar bone, and his voice is quiet, but close enough to his ear that it wakes him up. It’s only been a couple of hours, but he feels like he’s slept ridiculously well, and he thinks it must be because he’s feeling so blissfully content, lying in Lance’s arms. 

“Keith?”

“Mmm?” he replies sleepily, stretching his legs languidly. “Film finished?”

“Yeah,” Lance says. “And, uh, my leg’s kinda dead.”

He says it with amusement, but Keith still feels a little bad. “Oh. Yeah… sorry,” he says sitting up and twisting round. He sees Lance lying there, and something clicks. Maybe it’s because he’s sleepy and the nerves have gone. He thinks it has something more to do with the blush across Lance’s cheeks, the way he’s looking up at him like he’s amazed that he’s there. His lips are slightly parted, and he looks taken aback, and for once, Keith stop pushing back against his feelings. He lets them take the lead- because that’s what’s worked with Lance so far- and he leans down to meet Lance. Lance leans back against the sofa, slides down slightly so he’s almost lying down, and Keith follows him, noses brushing. Lance’s breath catches, and then Keith finds himself lying along him, legs tangling, lips hovering above Lance’s. 

“Hey,” he says now that his brain has caught up with his actions. He can’t believe he’s really lying between Lance’s legs, what the fuck.

“H-hi,” Lance chokes. His eyes are dark and he looks a little terrified if not also amazed at his own luck, and it makes Keith smile in a way that probably looks a little evil. The way he’s looking up at him makes him feel so loved, so wanted, that he can’t stop the smile from spreading.

It’s hilarious how smooth Lance acts, until Keith actually responds to his flirtations, and then he acts surprised and unprepared. 

“So, you’re awake, then,” Lance manages hoarsely.

“Mhm,” he replies, lying relaxed and sleepy in Lance’s arms- which are slowly finding their way along Keith’s back. He feels it so intensely- Lance’s touch is so new that it sends ripples of excitement through him. “You’re really here,” he says.

“Yep,” he replies, and Keith can feel his breath on his lips. Keith decides to kiss him, before either of them say anything stupid- because they’re both very capable of that. 

It’s languid and warm and Keith has absolutely no intention of moving, even if Lance’s leg is dead. He’s not complaining- in fact Lance’s hand on his back is keeping him pressed against him, the other running through Keith’s hair. Which he seems to like a lot, even if he says his ‘mullet’ is stupid. He doesn’t stop talking about it either way, and he’s pretty obsessed with it right now, and Keith’s pretty pleased about that as he leans his weight into Lance, creating a friction that makes him hum, and makes Lance’s breath hitch.

Lance pulls away as Keith kisses along his long neck. “I can’t believe this is happening…”

“I know,” Keith mumbles, but he’s not deterred from the task at hand, finds a spot beneath Lance’s sweatshirt where he places a well-hidden nip. Lance hiccups in surprise. So much for cool, smooth Lance. He’s nowhere to be found- instead he’s blushing furiously, wide-eyed, and making surprised little noises whenever Keith grinds against him, and it’s adorable and amazing. 

“Quiznak, this is crazy…” he says, voice hoarse beside Keith’s ear.

“Stop talking,” he growls, and Lance laughs, his body rippling beneath Keith’s, and then they’re kissing again. 

Lance begins to finally relax beneath him, and the kiss becomes more fervent, and some of Lance’s nerves seem to transfer to Keith because suddenly he’s hyper aware of the fact that he’s kissing Lance and now straddling him. Lance sits up, pulls Keith into his lap, plants kisses along Keith’s neck, and now he’s the one making embarrassing noises.

He pulls away and looks down at Lance from his position in his lap, and is momentarily blown away. When had it gotten dark? The winter day ends quickly and without warning, and it’s casting a bright, grey moonlight over Lance through the open blinds. In this light, so close to him, he can see Lance’s freckles. He can see the emotions swimming in his wide, awe filled eyes, can read the unspoken words on his parted lips. 

“You’re beautiful,” Lance says, just when Keith is thinking the same about him. It strikes him that no one has ever said anything like that to him. That the room is darkening, the TV is on standby, his tea is cold. Lance is warm and Keith feels like liquid beneath his hands. 

He rests his forehead against Lance’s, lets his eyes flutter close. 

“Where do you come up with cheesy stuff like that?” he manages through a self-deprecating laugh, because he has no idea how to respond to such a complement, to Lance’s reverent gaze.

“It’s the truth,” Lance pouts, tucking Keith’s hair back. 

Lance is the most genuine, loving person on the planet, and he swears he doesn’t deserve him. “You’re… you’re…” Keith tries, but can’t find the words, so he kisses him instead, kisses him desperately, and Lance makes a little surprised hum at the sudden intensity. That’s what it’s like with them- one moment intense, another quiet and vulnerable, the next passionate again. Things start to escalate and Lance is greedily responding to Keith’s kisses, and he’s grinding mercilessly against him and pulling ridiculous noises out of him that he _loves_. Keith strips Lance’s jumper off, is frustrated to find that, obviously, he’s wearing a t-shirt underneath, so he doesn’t pause to take that off too. That flustered, wide-eyed expression is back, and Keith laughs before kissing him again. 

“Let’s go next door,” he said in between kisses.

“Yeah,” Lance manages, who’s hands have been roaming under Keith’s shirt for too long for him to bear. 

Lance is apparently feeling equally impatient, because he tries to stand up and pick Keith up along with him, but he’s clearly struggling.

“Are you trying to pick me up?”

“…Yeah?”

Keith laughs, shaking his head. “Don’t do it if you think you’re going to drop me.”

“I can do it,” Lance argues. He throws Keith an unconvincingly confident smirk. “They don’t call me Muscles McLain for nothing.”

“Oh god.” Keith does not think this can go well. The guy is a beanpole, even if he is also toned. What is he thinking. “Just- no. Firstly, nobody could possibly call you that. Secondly, this is not a good idea.”

“No, I can do it,” and then Lance is making to stand up, and Keith clings on for dear life, legs wrapped around him like a particularly terrified koala. Lance actually manages it, and he’s not unimpressed. 

“See?” he announces victoriously, a glint in his eye in the moonlight. It’s ridiculously endearing, so Keith continues what he started and kisses him, so that Lance is stumbling over to Keith’s room. 

He manages to carry him there without damaging anything or anyone, but definitely drops Keith on the bed a little too readily. Keith scoffs at this.

“What? I lift,” he says proudly. “Not my fault your heavy, mullet.”

“Oh my god, Lance,” Keith groans, turning his eyes heavenward. “You’re supposed to be saying nice things, not insulting me.”

“I could, but that’s not how we roll,” Lance replies.

Lance makes his way to the bed to kiss him, and Keith complies more than happily. 

When Keith has imagined having Lance to himself like this, when he’s daydreamed about kissing him, about taking his clothes off, about resolving all the sexual tension that’s been bouncing between them, he’s imagined it being frantic and desperate. He’s imagined them pretty much having sex immediately after them confessing their feelings. In retrospect he’s not really sure why he’s thought of it that way, because what’s happening now, in reality, is actually very, very different.

It’s not frantic or desperate. They’re not tearing each other’s clothes off. In fact, both of them are quite content kissing, interspersing these moments with banter, as if nothing has changed at all between them. As if they do this sort of thing every day. It’s completely natural. 

They kiss. They talk. The discuss their Tumblr conversations, talk about their growing feelings the past few months. Talk about their past. Their present. Their future. Talk about ex girlfriends and boyfriends, talk about brothers and sisters, friends and people they hate, people on TV, people they’ve met at work. They talk about their heart-breaks and the things that have kept them going. Keith talks about Shiro going to Texas, due to come back in a couple of days time. He talks about meeting him for the first time. Lance talks about growing up in the Bronx, about Thanksgivings with his family and being the oldest sibling. They talk, they let their hands explore each other, tracing their outlines in the dark as they talk. 

And it’s so, so much better than anything Keith’s imagined before.

000

Keith wakes up in the middle of the night. His body clock is completely off after pulling that all nighter. It’s a pleasant surprise to find Lance in his bed, because he almost forgot what happened after he published the article. Honestly, it makes him jump out of his skin at first- he’s not shared a bed with a partner for a while. Moonlight is lighting the edges of Lance’s silhouette silver, his brown skin shining. It’s beautiful and Keith can’t help but watch for a while, before allowing himself to be pulled back into sleep again.

000

He wakes up again to see that Lance is awake, sitting up in bed beside him. He’s wearing yesterday’s t-shirt, a dark grey v-neck, and he’s messaging someone on his phone. Keith peers over the edge of the duvet and narrows his eyes.

“Hmmm,” he hums, the noise sounding enough like ‘good morning’ for Lance to respond with ‘good morning’ himself. 

Lance looks at him over his shoulder, a warm smile crossing his face, and Keith revels in the fact that he’s the reason that smile’s there. “You look so cute, all wrapped up like a burrito. Messy mullet poking out.”

“S’not a mullet,” he argues half-heartedly. Lance’s hair is scruffy, his eyes are bright and refreshed. There’s a flush across his freckled cheeks. “Come back,” he demands, reaching a hand out of the covers and tugging on Lance’s t-shirt.

Lance chuckles. “I’m just emailing Allura. I promise I’ll cuddle you in a minute- I’ve gotta respond to this or she’ll have my quiznaks for breakfast…”

“Mmmmm,” Keith moans in complaint. “C’m’ere.”

Lance is typing a reply on his phone and doesn’t move. “Bitch, just a second. Geez.”

Keith grumbles and shuffles towards Lance, sitting behind him and wrapping his arms around his waist. The sudden contact makes Lance’s back straighten in surprise. Keith’s hands find their way beneath Lance’s shirt. 

“You’re warm,” Lance says in a more gravelly voice than usual. 

“You’re cold,” Keith mumbles, planting his chin on Lance’s shoulder and looking at his phone. He’s stopped typing, thumbs hovering over the screen. When Keith drags his lips lazily along Lance’s neck, he can feel his breath stutter. 

“Pay attention to me,” Keith drawls into his ear. 

“OK, you’ve got my attention,” Lance says, but barely. The words are almost caught in his throat as Keith kisses along it, his hands roaming up his shirt. 

Lance’s back straightens in response, head tilted to allow Keith to explore along his neck and shoulder. Neither of them notice the phone drop out of Lance’s hands and onto the bed, forgotten. When Keith sucks experimentally on the skin just below Lance’s ear, his breath hitches. 

“Didn’t know you were such a morning person,” Lance jokes, as Keith pulls himself closer to him, stomach and chest pressed flush against Lance’s back, thighs around Lance’s hips. 

“’M not usually,” he says, word muffled as he kisses the other side of Lance’s neck. “You weren’t coming back to bed so I thought I’d come to you.”

Lance makes a nonverbal response as Keith’s hands travel across Lance’s chest, down his stomach, tease the waistband of his boxers. He can feel his muscles tense underneath his fingers, and he wishes he could see his face as he dips beneath the waistband. Lance’s back is straightening against his chest, hips shifting between his legs, choked sounds coming from over his shoulder. 

“God, Keith,” he says weakly, and Keith loves the way that sounds so he keeps going, doesn’t stop, until Lance at one point tells him to so he can turn around and kiss him, press him down into the bed and grind along him mercilessly, and Keith finds he can’t complain. Not when suddenly they’re both under the covers and Keith’s taking Lance’s clothes off- properly, this time- and Lance is kissing down Keith’s stomach, and he doesn’t think he’s ever been so blissed out in his life. His back arches at the touch, and he can’t help but watch Lance move down his body, kissing his inner thighs as he teases with the waist band of his boxers, and it’s verging on brutal, cruel, because the tension that’s been building between them for weeks has come to a head. Last night they’d wanted to talk it out, smooth out the misunderstandings and figure out ‘what they were’, but now, now it felt like the elastic band was ready to snap, and Keith thinks that there was never any way of avoiding this. 

“God, you have such a good body,” Lance says, eyes scanning up his body before reaching his eyes. “I can totally see why you walk around wearing that tight black t-shirt.”

And that’s a little embarrassing, because the reason he wears black t-shirts all the time is largely because he’s too lazy to find out what else suits him. Lance seems to notice this in expression and chuckles. Keith wants to say something about how good looking Lance is too, because he knows that as much as he flirts, he doesn’t actually _know_ how hot he is- the warm brown tone of his skin, the freckles across his nose and shoulders, the slim line of his waist and hips, broad shoulders, big, expressive eyes- he wants to say all these things but doesn’t know how, especially since Lance is slowly stripping him and- ok, wow, the things he’s _doing_ to him-

And if Keith thought that he’d never been so blissed out earlier, well, now he’s reached a whole new level, gives himself in to his senses, everything he’s feeling- Lance’s tongue, his lips, his hair between Keith’s fingers, the sheets in his tightly clasped hand, Lance’s fingers one minute stroking up his stomach, next pressing down into his hips, the prickling heat running up and down his body, the sound of his own voice gasping out Lance’s name, it rolls off his tongue so naturally, the sound of Lance humming in appreciation-

And the sound of someone next door.

“Stop,” Keith says abruptly, and Lance falters, looking up at him nervously from beneath the sheets. He looks more than a little flustered, hair a mess, lips pink. Keith almost forgets why he made him stop, is transfixed by the view, is too busy revelling in the warmth that had been building in his abdomen, before he remembers.

“Kind of a little busy down here,” Lance argues.

“Sssht!” Keith says, tries to listen past the sound of their heavy breathing, because he could have _sworn_ -

“What is it? I don’t hear anything-”

“Shut up-” Keith says, and for a moment, he thinks he must have just been paranoid, he’s about to pull Lance into a kiss because he’s desperate for Lance to continue, simultaneously aching to do things to Lance, when-

“ _Keith?_ ” It’s Shiro. Next door.

Lance’s eyes widen in alarm, looking up at him. “I thought you said he wasn’t coming home till tomorrow?”

“He wasn’t meant to!” Keith whispers harshly. Shiro’s footsteps are approaching the bedroom door. “Fuck, quick, just- hide under the covers.”

Lance hesitates for a moment, before scrabbling beneath the covers and removing himself from the compromising position he had just been holding between Keith’s legs. Keith can see he’s doing his best to flatten himself like a pancake beneath the duvet, and he can’t help but snort in laughter that the ridiculous situation before he remembers it’s actually _mortifying_. And then, just in the nick of time, Shiro knocks on the door and pokes his head around. 

“Keith? I haven’t woken you up, have I?”

“Shiro! Hey!” Keith says, peering over the duvet which is pulled up to his neck. “You’re home early! How was it?”

“It should all be sorted, at least for the time being.” Shiro’s eyes narrow and scan the scene. “You’re in bed late?”

“Uh… yeah, it’s been a busy couple of days.”

“Yes. I read your blog post,” Shiro said simply.

“Oh. Yeah. I… forgot you’d probably have seen that.”

Silence lulls between them. 

“We should chat about it once your up and about.” Another pause, and Shiro’s eyes are trained on him. Keith can feel his ears burning. “In the meantime, I’m going to make waffles. Want some?”

“Nope.”

“Sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure I don’t want waffles, Shiro.” He knows he sounds brusque but he can’t really help it, he doesn’t know how much longer this can last.

“Ok, if you say so. Lance, do you want waffles?”

Keith chokes on thin air. He’s about to respond with something probably not particularly intelligent, when a tanned hand appears from under the duvet, giving Shiro a thumbs up. 

“Yes please,” Lance mumbles beneath the sheets.

“Lance, what the fuck!” Keith exclaims. Shiro leaves the room with a chuckle and closes the door behind him, and Keith has never been so embarrassed in his entire fucking life. 

Lance’s head pops out of the duvet “What? I wanted waffles, Shiro was offering waffles.”

“You were meant to be _hiding_ ,” Keith says through gritted teeth. 

“He guessed I was here, anyway. And I’m hungry.” He crawls out from under the duvet and grins down at Keith so smugly he could kick him. 

“You’re unbelievable,” Keith says dryly.

“Thank you,” Lance says brightly and kisses him. Keith watches him change into a pair of his own sweatpants, before he gets up and follows him into the living room to have waffles with Shiro. 

And it’s like everything has changed- but, at the same time, nothing has changed at all.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> heads up: there's some homophobic dialogue in this chapter, but don't worry its a very positive chapter overall  
> fin
> 
> also... nyma is based massively on my ex girlfriend. and lance is basically me in this fic (and in the show 2bh)... like. down to the whole working in a bookshop, wanting to be a journalist, has ridiculous relationship issues details. i relate to him so much in the show and it means a lot to have so much positive feedback re this fic!
> 
> thank you so much everyone who's been reading and enjoying it and leaving kudos and being generally love about my writing

**The gay biracial journalist power couple ruling your Facebook feed right now**

**Who are Keith Kogane and Lance McClain? Teen Vogue chat to the hottest names in journalism right now, and guess what- they’re cute too**

**Gay journalist couple set internet on fire**

“Can you believe this?” Lance asks, dumbfounded and light-headed as he reads the headlines. 

They’re sitting in Central Park. It’s February 10th and it’s freezing. The city is frozen and the sky is a pale blue- the kind of winter sky that tricks you into thinking the sun will be out to warm everything up again. Lance will never get used to New York winters. He’s lived here all his life, but he wonders if he would have been better suited to the Cuban weather his parents knew before they emigrated. He tucks his chin into his thick turtle neck and tilts his phone so Keith can see his Facebook homepage. The further down he scrolls, the more articles pop up with their faces in the thumbnail. 

“It’s weird.” Keith says it with a heavy sense of apathy that Lance knows can only mean he actually cares a lot about it. Lance has always known when he’s putting on an act. 

“It won’t last,” he soothes. “The internet will idolise us for, what, a month or something. Then they’ll get bored. It’s how this shit works.”

“Don’t like it,” Keith mumbles, and Lance bumps his shoulder against his.

“I know. Great for the bookshop though.”

Holt’s bookshop has become the next cool thing, thanks to the Altea Post publicity. It’s become the Shakespeare and Co. of New York- it has that cutesy, niche atmosphere that has hipsters crawling to their door all day everyday. Since Matt came back, he’s had to hire more staff. Honestly, the poor guy was away for so much of it that when he came back at Christmas time to find his family’s bookshop saved, he had no idea what to make of it. That was, until Pidge told him everything, showed him the year’s figures and the 2018 predictions, and he spun them round in his arms like they’d pulled off a miracle. And in a way, they kind of had. Of course, he had Shiro to thank for that, and Allura, who he’d never met before. 

That meeting had been an interesting one. Dude flirts more than Lance.

Keith takes Lance’s phone, and Lance lets him. Keith keeps scrolling, stops on one by HuffPost. The thumbnail picture is from a photo shoot Altea Post did with them, when they realised just how much recognition they were getting. Lance is fingergunning at the camera, and Keith is looking over at him wearily. Lance loves it. Keith thinks it looks like a bad RomCom poster. That’s kind of why Lance loves it. 

“Come on,” Lance says, taking his phone back. Keith passes it over and sighs, Lance pocketing his iphone and taking Keith’s hand. “Let’s go back to your place. I’m not gonna spend my day off getting hypothermia on this park bench.”

“Right,” Keith agrees, takes Lance’s hand and lets him pull him off the park bench. Although, because it’s them, Keith tries to make it as difficult as possible, grins sadistically as he watches Lance attempt to pull him up on his feet, leaning all his weight back. His feet almost slip on the icy ground, which makes Keith laugh, the bastard.

When they eventually get going, freezing air turning their breaths into clouds, they wander leisurely. Lance talks, as he usually does. Keith listens, patiently- a quality that he thinks, perhaps, he’s taught him since they’ve started spending time together. He’s talking about a Neil deGrasse Tyson documentary he watched on Netflix when he spots somebody coming through the Central Park entrance closest to Keith’s apartment building. 

At first, Lance thinks he must be imagining things. Because Nyma screwed him up bad, and sometimes, even now, he thinks he sees her when she’s not there. Sometimes, when he sees a tall, blonde figure, his brain goes off on red alert, before he realises it isn’t her. Except, this time, it is her. It’s Nyma, walking through Central Park- a part of town that’s nowhere near where she lives- and the chances of this happening are so minute and yet here she is. 

The words falter on Lance’s tongue, and he doesn’t even realise he’s stopped talking. Instead, his heart leaps with anxiety, and his hand squeezes Keith’s instinctively. His steps slow to a stop, and he watches her come down the path towards them, not noticing him yet.

Keith stops by Lance’s side, squeezes his hand in response. “Lance? What’s wrong?” Lance looks over at him. He looks alarmed, confused.

“My ex,” Lance says quietly, because Nyma is getting pretty close, and if he’s lucky, she won’t look up, won’t notice him. Keith follows the path of his gaze, settle on the tall, blonde, olive skinned girl reading from the phone in her hands. Lance can feel the moment Keith realises who she is, remembers the things she’s said and done. He tenses, pulls Lance closer. 

And that’s when Nyma looks up, sees Lance, dull recognition passing over face, fleeting, before surprise replaces it. 

Lance takes a shaky breath.

_Here we go. That moment your counsellor said would probably never happen, but you've been mentally preparing for either way._

“Lance?” 

“Nyma,” Lance says, his voice is a lot squeakier than he’d like it to be. Keith’s hand has a crushing, vice like grip on his. 

“Oh my God, Lance, hi- what a weird coincidence,” she smiles. And it’s weird because she obviously has absolutely no idea how terrified Lance is right now. Lance may as well be an old friend to her. It’s a strange thought. “I was just passing through to meet my boyfriend,” she says a little proudly, with a hair flick. 

Yeah, she was always a show off. Although, she was never proud of him when they were dating.

“Right,” Lance laughs nervously. “What are you… what are you up to these days?”

Her gaze shifts to Keith. She acknowledges his presence, looks back to Lance, tugs her beanie over her ears against the wind. “I’m training to be a lawyer, actually, can you believe it?” He can. “It’s going really really well.”

She stops, looks at him expectantly. Keith strokes the back of his hand with his thumb. He finds his voice. 

“Cool, cool… I’m writing for Altea Post now.”

“Oh, cool,” she says, without much interest. “I deleted my Facebook so I don’t really see any of that stuff.”

“Right,” Lance says. Nyma looks over to Keith again, a frown settling on her face. It’s probably because of the intensely threatening vibes Keith’s giving off right now.

“This is Keith,” Lance supplies. “My… my boyfriend.”

Keith continues to stare Nyma down. Nyma looks at Lance, dumbfounded. She finally notices their hands, intertwined. She looks back up at him.

“You’re… you’re gay, now?”

It’s such a hilarious question, that he can’t help but let out a burst of laughter. It’s the first time since knowing Nyma that he’s felt like he’s not the stupid one. She always made him feel dumb. This is a nice change. Then again, he’s a much more confident person than he was before he met Keith. 

“Am I gay now? No, Nyma. I’m bisexual.”

The idea that this is a weird conversation to be having on a busy weekend in Central Park doesn’t cross Lance’s mind. He feels a little like he’s floating from the anxiety of meeting his awful, manipulative ex-girlfriend, but also from the triumph of realising he’s got the moral high ground. That he’s changed for the better, and that she’s exactly the same. 

Keith has been suspiciously quiet, and he can feel the tension building in him, can tell he’s about to explode at some point. Because, whilst he’s not normally the territorial, protective type, when it comes to Nyma, he’s heard enough to warrant blowing up in her face. His lips are pursed, eyebrows coming together over his dark eyes, and the fact that the cold air makes it look like he’s breathing steam makes the image more comical.

“Since when?” she asks. She doesn’t sound angry, exactly, but she does seem offended, somehow.

“Since forever? I dunno, that’s not really how it works,” he manages before he laughs again. 

“Oh my _god_.” Keith finally growls to himself. Lance and Nyma turn to look at him.

This was so not how he imagined this conversation going when he prepared for it in his head all those times. This is fucking hilarious.

“Excuse me?” Nyma asks tartly. 

“ _Are you fucking kidding me_?” Keith asks sweetly, like he’s talking to a child. “’ _Since when?_ ’ I mean, Jesus Christ.”

“I’m, sorry, have I-?” _offended you in some way_ , she’s probably going to say, but Keith interrupts. 

“Go suck a fuck, Nyma.” Keith says with so much disdain dripping from his voice that Lance bursts out laughing again. 

Nyma’s mouth hangs open and she stares between the two of them stupidly. It’s wonderful.

Time to wrap up this perfect shitstorm. “I’m afraid we have to run,” Lance says cheerily, pulling Keith along with him as he walks past Nyma and doesn’t look back. “What with us being famous journalists and all. Things to do, people to see. Have a nice life, Nyma.”

He pulls Keith along with him, laughter pouring out of him, energy coursing through him, weight lifted off his shoulders that he didn’t know was there, and it’s so invigorating that he breaks into a run. They run down the New York street, hand in hand, laughing together as they go. They don’t look back.

 

000

 

Keith is finishing up an article in the Bookshop, casually sipping a cappuccino. These days, it’s hard to chill there without being bombarded by fans who recognise him, but he misses it. It’s where his friends are, and he finds the flat claustrophobic now that he’s discovered that he can happily relax in other places. 

Lance is sitting behind the till, spinning around on his chair. He occasionally lets out a bored sigh. Hunk is restocking the shelves, and Pidge is talking to a customer. Matt’s opposite Keith at the same table, fixing a spreadsheet of costings and biting the inside of his cheek as he thinks. Lance lets out another groan of boredom and Keith sighs loudly in response.

“Lance, if you’re bored, do something. Sell books,” Keith says. 

“It’s what I’m paying you for,” Matt says absently, eyes on the screen.

There’s one more sigh from behind the till, before Keith sees Lance stand up in his peripheral vision. He continues to write. 

That is, until, Lance gasps, and Keith looks up to find him staring at his phone, hand pressed to his mouth, eyebrows at his hairline.

“What? What is it? What’s happened?” Hunk demands anxiously.

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god,” Lance babbles, staring at his phone, hand raking through his hair.

“What is it?” Keith asks, standing up and joining his side. Hunk and Matt are there too, Pidge shortly following. 

Keith reads the email on Lance’s iPhone screen.

_Dear Mr McClain,_

_I hope this email finds you well. It probably won’t surprise you that we’ve been following your progress with Altea Post for the past four months. We have been impressed with your freelance work, and would like to know if you would be interested in the following offer._

_Lonely Planet are a leading company in promoting travel destinations across the world for a range of audiences. The summer season begins in two months time, and we are looking for bright, young journalists to send out to review some of the most exciting holiday destinations._

_We have spoken to Allura Smythe, who recommends you highly for such a position. We would therefore like to extend an unconditional offer to travel between June and September across Europe as one of Lonely Planet’s journalists. On your return, we may discuss a more permanent position at the company._

_We look forward to hearing whether you would like to accept this offer._

_Kind regards,_

_Jason Kaminski,_  
Senior Editor   
Lonely Planet 

“Oh, holy quiznak, Lance!” Hunk exclaims.

“ _Babe,_ ” Keith says, though it comes out more like an exhale. He and Lance turn to look at each other, grins mirroring each other, eyes shining brightly, and Keith brings him into a crushing hug. 

And then, they’re all hugging him. Customers are watching in confusion, but none of them care about the scene they're making.

“This is incredible! Oh my God, Lance!”

“Dude, what the fuck, how did that happen? Where did that come from?”

“Lance I’m so happy for you! It’s happening, man, it’s happening!”

Lance pokes his head out of the crushing group hug and takes a gulp of air like he’s emerged from underwater. Matt grabs him in a headlock and ruffles his hair.

“This is so weird, oh my god. four months… oh my god, this is really happening?” Lance babbles, and Keith re-reads the email from his phone. Hunk has disappeared to get the emergency wine they keep in the staff kitchen. Keith knows this because Lance once threatened to drink it during a particularly boring shift. 

“This is happening,” Keith says, taking Lance’s hands. Lance’s eyes are brimming with tears, and he lets out a bubble of disbelieving laughter. 

“I can’t believe it,” he says weakly.

“I can,” Keith says. 

Pidge squeezes Lance in a tight hug, although they only come up to his chest, so it looks a little like they’re a koala clinging onto him for dear life. 

“You did it, bro,” Pidge says tearily. 

“Aw, Pidge, don’t cry!”

“I’m proud of you, don’t ruin the moment,” they retort.

“Four months, in Europe…” Lance says, and it seems to settle on him that he’s never left North America before. He looks at Keith for support, and he gives it with an arm around his shoulder. He plants a kiss on his cheek, rests his forehead against his temple for a moment. Keith cherishes this idiot more than he could ever know.

“Who’s going to make fun of you whilst I’m gone?” Lance says. Keith laughs. 

000

They’re at the airport. It’s a warm September, but airports are always super air conditioned, so Keith’s shrugging a jacket on as he stares up at the arrivals board- Lance arrived from London twenty minutes ago, but he doesn’t know where else to look. He can’t focus on the conversation bubbling around him. Lance’s mum and dad are here, so are all his younger siblings and cousins, who are playing with one of the luggage trollies and racing each other in them. Hunk, Pidge, Matt, Shiro, Allura, and Coran are here too. Hunk’s made a banner saying ‘WELCOME HOME LANCE’, which he painted himself. His art skills aren’t amazing, but it's the thought that counts, and Hunk is holding one end and Pidge has the other. It’s very lopsided when they lift it up in the air. 

When a crowd of people come out of the gates, Keith can’t help but grip the railing he’s standing behind. Four months long distance wasn’t easy, and Keith has missed Lance more than he can describe in words. He looks out for the tall, lanky figure in the crowd, and it’s not long before he spots him.

Hunk and Pidge scream in delight, and Lance finds them, and the lopsided banner, immediately. He laughs, stops in his tracks as he takes in the image, suitcase in hand. When his eyes meet Keith’s, and the smile widens, Keith can feel his throat constrict. 

“Lance! _Papi_!” Lance’s mum explodes. She’s small, not like Lance. But she’s exuberant. She actually has more energy than Lance does, it’s remarkable. She bustles over to Lance and pulls him into a vice like hug, planting kisses all over his face. Lance blushes and flails desperately. His dad, meanwhile- who _terrifies_ Keith, and looms over him quietly- watches the scene with silent amusement and affection. 

“Hi, _mami_ \- can you- it’s OK- oh geez,” he says, trying to escape her grasp. But then the younger members of his family corner him in a group hug, and he’s trapped. His dad frees him, squeezes him on the shoulder with a ‘good to see you again, son.’ It’s bizarre how quiet his dad is. Lance gets so much of his personality from his mum, who’s the complete opposite. Well, Keith supposes, opposites do attract.

“LANCE!” Hunk exclaims.

“HUNK!”

Lance launches himself into Hunk’s arms, and Hunk spins him around. “I’ve missed you so much, bro!” Hunk sobs. 

There’s another giant group hug, and Lance is lost within a sea of bodies. Eventually he escapes again, and finally, makes his way over to Keith. He looks jet lagged, he looks tired. Keith goes in to hug him- Lance has other ideas, and brings him into a crushing kiss. Pidge whoops. Mrs McClain tsks. 

“I’ve missed you,” Lance whispers.

“I’ve missed you, too,” Keith says. 

They all leave the airport together, Lance’s hand firmly in Keith’s for the first time in months, and it makes his heart soar. Keith looks over to his left- Allura and Shiro are hand in hand, Coran talking animatedly to Mrs McClain. Mr McClain is discussing something quite soberly with Pidge on his right, and Hunk is babbling to Lance, updating him on everything that’s happened since he’s been gone, like Hunk beating Keith in Mario Kart. Matt adds that he has a girlfriend now, badly tells some inside joke that Lance missed whilst he was away. Lance laughs and smiles and chats away, and Keith can’t take his eyes off him. 

He considers the family he’s inadvertently acquired. The tears come to his eyes before he can stop it. 

Dammit, he said he wasn’t going to cry.


End file.
